I still haven’t got through to the USA regarding the tax issue, although, in all fairness, I do have to admit that I have only tried once since last Thursday, and that was yesterday. I got the same old message, ‘Unable to process your request.’
I’m the kind of person who won’t give up until something is sorted and accomplished but by last Sunday I had reached the point where I wasn’t safe to be around and so I decided to take time out from this mental virtual world. 24 hours away from the computer.
Equipped with my mug of tea, and my feet rammed firmly into my wellies, I took off up the garden, letting the chucks out on the way. It was only 6.30 am and they blinked a bit in surprise at being allowed their freedom quite so early in the day.
I had a bit of a dawdle through the broad beans, fought off the million baby spiders hanging from threads in the greenhouse, and watered the tomatoes, and then, as I walked under the brick archway, decided to take up the entire path and replace it. Weeds had multiplied and pushed through the spaces making it look messy and untidy, and although the day was about to turn hotter by the hour it was nice and cool beneath the clematis covered arch.
It took me a couple of hours to lift the bricks and remove the weeds. It was at this point that Richard appeared and stood, with shaking head, and a scowl on his down-turned mush.
‘What!’ I said, which was pretty big of me considering that I wasn’t speaking to him because he’s a pillock and he’d caused me to have a major rant the night previously. I’d threatened him with putting the house on the market and sending him packing. I do this from time to time. It’s normal. He expects it. Anyway…I continued with, ‘The only other thing that pisses (yes I swore…and on a Sunday morning with church bells ringing in the distance) me off more than having to do this REALLY difficult job on my own, is YOU standing there WATCHING ME!’
‘Why are you doing this? I can’t be helping in this heat. If you did it at a sensible time I’d help,’ he said.
‘Sod off! I don’t need your help!’
He cleared off then, shuffling down the path in his stupid flip-flops, frightening pollen-feeding bees off the cosmos.
I found a roll of weed suppressant in the potting shed and laid that before embarking on the task of replacing the bricks. I found the whole thing extremely rewarding and, with each brick laid, I found the stresses and annoyances of the week evaporating. I can’t stay mad when I’m in the garden. It is my comfort blanket. Chea came and helped, laying on the weed suppressant and cleaning her paws as I laid the bricks around her.
Richard reappeared with a glass of iced water a while later and muttered something about, ‘Contrary to popular belief I don’t want you to get dehydrated.’
Well he wouldn’t would he? If I collapsed who would lay the path? Actually, I’d chilled by then and so I allowed him to fetch a bag of cement-type-stuff for between the awkward gaps. He wasn’t trusted to apply it though – so he watched.
Honestly, he drives me mad. The other night I caught him looking at me and when I turned to him with raised, questioning brows, he said, ‘When you lose weight your face gets thinner …and your hair looks thicker.’
What? What the hell did that mean? So normally I’m fat-faced with thin hair?
He can talk. At least I don’t hide my double chin beneath a stubbly beard – well, not yet.
Then, trying to justify the comment he said, ‘…or is it just that your hair needs cutting?’
I passed no comment. The look I flashed him said everything. He blinked innocently a few times and then buried his nose in his laptop.
I’ve just had to close the door as Chea has come back to the house with a mouse. I don’t do mice. It has taken refuge behind the log basket. Richard will have to find it when he gets home. I’m making him a list, pick the broad beans, pick the peas, run me to the bank… and remove a mouse. At least I’ve calmed down enough to speak to him now, otherwise I’d have to leave him a note haha.
I think Chea must have found a family of mice because this is the third little creature she’s brought back. But here’s the lovely thing, she brings them back, gently releases them, and they scamper off back up the garden. Of course it could be the same mouse? If so it must be major peed off by now.
So, my answer to a week of hell? Turn off the computer. Take 24 hours – and go and smell the roses…or lay a brick path.
PS The promotion I set up for The Sleeping Field did actually work! I know, a bloody miracle, BUT it ends today at 6.00pm UK time, so if you would like a copy at 99p make sure you download before then. And a big thank you to those of you who have already supported me and purchased a copy. If I knew how to put a ‘smiley face’ here I would, but I don’t, so I can’t.