It's two months until Christmas Eve. Two months. But I can't get motivated to start anything like present shopping, or even cracking on making the cards. I don't know what things will be like in two days, let alone two months, so I keep shelving all thoughts of Christmas almost as soon as they come into my head; no doubt that will come back to bite me on the a**e when it's almost upon us and I've still done nothing.
Having done practically nothing yesterday due to fending off aforesaid bats (like that - aforesaid, how 'literary'!!!) today was spent in almost a fury of activity trying to catch up on chores. I got the laundry sorted and hung out, only to realise that it wasn't that urgent because Romilly is on half term next week and doesn't need her college uniform. It was nice to get all the bedding clean, dried and pressed though - although it pains me to get into a nice clean bed with all the bedding pressed and crisp; I don't like ruffling the pillowcases, or sheet, or duvet cover...my ASD rearing its ugly head I guess.
I also decided to crack on and trim the hedge. For those of you who don't know our garden, it has a lovely living hedge running all the way down one side of it, and that totals about 160 feet of greenery that needs to be kept trim - 320 feet if you count both sides of it, and 480 feet if you are going to trim the top as well. That is a LOT of hedge. It was one of C's once or twice yearly jobs (depending on how much the bugger had grown), but as he can't manage it at the moment it has got a bit, well, out of hand (I think we've lost about a foot of garden and lane, either side, due to it's bushiness!!) I'd been talking to our neighbour the other day - she came to find me and ask if it was okay for her partner Alan to trim the hedge a bit, at which point I felt it prudent to explain why we hadn't done it for a while. She was very sympathetic, having been through a serious illness recently herself, and kindly offered to sort out trimming the hedge the lane side for us, which I hastily accepted. And so I thought I ought to get on and do the side in our garden - but with the demise of the hedge trimmers some time ago, it was down to my brute force and a pair of not-so-sharp-anymore shears. I managed to get half of it done, and exercise my bingo wings in the process, and as No 2 was round to watch footie with C (and cadge another roast dinner in the process, bless him) he gave me a hand clearing up the cuttings. This has left me with a huge pile of greenery in Chickoland that needs burning - oh dear, I need to have another bonfire....c'est la vie - vive le feu!!!
Once that was done I got the beef joint in the oven, instructed C which vegetables to prep for dinner, and went off for a tramp with the mutts. We went on a different route today, because Romilly had blocked the Land Rover in the garage with her car and frankly I couldn't be bothered to shift them all round. It was nice to go somewhere different - the footpath up past Little Jane's Cottage and into the woods is lovely right now, with the beech trees dropping golden brown leaves on the path, and being up that high you have amazing views through the clear air towards Portsmouth and Chichester. Lovely too for the mutts as they don't have to be on the lead at all on the way round, only when we get back to the road.
Feeling very righteous when I got back, so once the veg was on, and I'd chopped some kindling and refilled the log basket, I poured myself a glass of wine and plonked down on the sofa. A very full, and fulfilling day today. C has struggled though - I know he hates that he can't do much physical stuff any more, and watching me do the hedge was difficult for him. Plus I've been quite active doing all these chores; he helps me out whenever he can, but he still wants to be able to be the man he was before the diagnosis, which just isn't possible at the moment. I want him to concentrate his energies on getting back to a better state of health - physical and mental - and I know it's difficult for him. He is doing so well, keeps going and tries to do what he can, but it is painful to see him feeling so, as he calls it, 'useless' compared to how he used to be. I just wish it was as easy to take over his mental state as it is to take over his chores, just to make him feel good about himself again. Bloody bloody bloody cancer.
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