i need to make something clear.
when i said i did not find george clooney in the least attractive, i was joking.
clearly my powers of humour are failing, as every bit of energy i have goes into making this lode-stone of 30,000 words which is hanging over my head, stretched across my shoulders like an obese cat, breathing down my neck, coherent.
so all the clarity goes into the thesis, and none remains for me to live my life with.
so sorry about that.
just to re-cap. george is such a big spunk that i even dreamed about him last night. it was one of those dreams, sorry cloke, where the romance is the focus. it's like there is something special there; it's not about sex. there might be a little bit of kissing, but absolutely no raunch. it's all about sitting closely together, whispering to each other, feeling warm and protected.
i hasten to add all these needs are well met in my life, but george managed to sneak in there while i was asleep and completely unable to kick him out of my dream.
better than steel wool, i say.
so, to the marathon. imagine you have trained for the commonwealth games (i'll use that as an image, i figure the olympics would be more for a phd scenario). you are winning, you are almost there, and then as you are dredging up all your reserves of energy and smartness, not to mention thesaurus-like Skillz, your child wanders onto the road. she is crying, with arms stretched out, saying something about feeling hot and shivery, and that her eyes are going to pop out of her head if she moves them. you can see that she looks flushed, you are sure she has a temperature.
what do you do?
do you ignore her, send her to school, and push on.
that is not possible. you stop the race, cradle her to your bosom and put her to bed, carrying trays backwards and forwards the length of the house; tempting offerings. you keep her home from school for two days (and counting). she is so sweet, she apologises for being sick, says you are the best mummy and that next time you are sick, she will take as good care of you, as you have of her.
you keep looking at the pile of work.
but it's not that bad. you have made it sound worse than it is just to write a blog post. for this is the stress, the pressure, making you elaborate in this way.
it will all be ok.
days to submit: 8
keep well everybody, and will someone please feed cotton?