Right now, I have no work outside the home and while I would like to say I need the rest, I find the inactivity enervating in the extreme. It makes it hard to get on with the tasks I need to get done; I can take all day over something that really only needs half an hour.
Today I need to take my daughter into town for an optician’s appointment. We’ve been lucky to find a specialist in our little town who does colourimetry. This is quite difficult to define but basically it’s about finding a colour lense that makes your eyes work at their best. It’s used to help dyslexia and in all honesty, it has made a huge difference to my daughter since she got her first pair of coloured lenses about 9 years ago. Obviously it has caught on since then because when we last tried to find a local specialist, we failed and had to go with our original one. Now, since it’s been so long since her first colourimetry assessment, and she needs an eye test anyway, I was very relieved to find one in town. The trouble is that my driving phobia means we’re taking the bus.
Other things I have managed to do today: remember to pick up the dog’s medication, and put a load of laundry through the machine. That’s more or less it unless you include getting up and having breakfast. I’ve promised my daughter we’ll have a bit of lunch in town too, so if we get into town way too early we have something to focus on and she can sit down and recharge her batteries till we need to walk the rest of the way.
Tomorrow I am planning on going to Norwich, our nearest city, to do some Christmas shopping. Again, the driving phobia means I’ll be taking the train after a three mile walk to the station. The car will just be sitting outside the house. I’ve not even driven this car yet. I must try to get to grips with this phobia.
I don’t like Christmas much. I’m not sure why. Maybe it’s to do with my inability to feel happy things or maybe it’s just I am a Scrooge and react with “Bah Humbug!” to the whole season. For most of her childhood, my daughter had to wait till her father got home from taking Christmas morning services before she could open her presents. Now he’s no longer a serving clergyman, we’ve gone to my parents for Christmas and again, the schedule is someone elses. This year we’re at home; my mother broke her shoulder a week ago and my father agreed it was best if we stay home. This is the fourth Christmas in this house; the first, I was still so much in shock from the move, I didn’t put up so much as a sprig of holly or a garland of tinsel. This year I’d like to make it a good one but in all honesty, Christmas means very little to me. We’re not members of any church any more, and we all baulk at the commercial side of it. I’ve sometimes suggested we do a stint at a night shelter or something instead but no one feels like that. So we sit in limbo.
I think after I’ve got the presents bought and sent away, I may be able to think a bit more about the whole festive thing a bit more. I’ve got a headache started just thinking about it.
Bah, humbug!
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