One For Each Cheek

Starting the day thinking about self-centered, egoistical,
intellectual hard drinking nihilistic russians is not a good idea. I am
bothered by the fact that I find the idea of these russians
appealing.

Instead of doing housework I am set upon by thoughts. I really have to
force myself to do the bathroom at half past eleven.

I want to know why when you are trying to be good eleven thousand
challenges to your goodness appear every moment of the day. I am really
trying NOT to be horrible and judgemental and critical and let things
go and say things are only things and so on. I am attempting to
persuade myself that my happiness doesn't depend on a variety of
external factors:

* whether or not every one of my children leaves all their possessions
in the middle of the hall

* whether or not someone loves me best of all and thinks I am more
marvellous than anyone else and also adores me

* whether I can be bothered to get to the shop for a creme egg

Why is it so easy to do nothing?

My oldest son is putting me to shame for although he is off college
with a rugby injury to his leg he had entirely cleaned his bedroom. So
much so that his girlfriend just arrived and shouted JESUS
CHRIST!

I wish I didn't pretend all the time that I am much better than my
children. I sighed indulgently as we tried to remove several blockages
from the vac tube. You can't just hoover ANYTHING up, I said to him.
But I do that. I just suck willy nilly. I believe heartily in the power
of suction. I spotted a huge green grape whizzing round in the vac
cyclone the other day.

Pondering the russians I wonder if drinking licorice yogi tea will make
me a better person. The path to enlightenment seems several million
miles long and I feel like I have just stepped onto it and I am wearing
Barbie shoes.

Anyway I am off to the Spar now to buy two cadbury's creme eggs. One
for each cheek.