Reflecting, Musing and Mulling Things Over...

Thursday, all is forgiven. You have redeemed yourself: we are friends for life!  A rose by any other name would smell as sweet... For some reason, unbeknown to myself, Thursdays HAD become my ‘annus horribilis’ (okay, not my ‘annus horribilis’, my ‘horribilis’ day; but, I failed languages at school so the Latin (not that I studied Latin) for ‘horrible day’ escapes me. Plus, I’m having fun imagining myself speaking like the Queen.) Anyway, I digress.  Thursdays of late have, undoubtedly, deserved the ole one fingered salute!  I woke up  this morning seriously thinking: “Thursday? Nope, I’ll pass, ta.  I’ll give it a swerve - (envisage me in a high vis jacket marshalling Friday in: parking that baby unceremoniously in Thursday’s spot!) bring on Friend-day. I don’t have the energy for Thursday’s shenanigans.”   I closed my eyes, clicked the heels of my Ruby slippers together three times and said: “There’s no day like Friday. There’s no day like Friday. There’s...

 Making the decision to look after myself... Last week was quite a week. I experienced the whole gamut of emotions on a daily basis.  In fact, I experienced the whole gamut of emotions hourly! By 4.15 on Thursday afternoon, I’d had enough, I was close to tears. I was done. I was a spent force.  I wanted to stop the roundabout and get off. I wanted to scream and I was very angry inside. Whilst driving home,  frustration trickled down my face... As I walked in to the house, my poor husband got the brunt of my emotional turmoil. A tirade of  verbal abuse assaulted his ears - the poor man had just come home from working in London. He wanted a smile, a kiss and a cuddle. Instead, he was greeted by a rather dishevelled, red faced, Tasmanian devil. He was crestfallen: I was a fierce ball of hormonal rage!  After a while, the anger faded and I morphed back to myself; his wife was back in the room...I gently bestowed a kiss on my love.  Later on that evening, w...