6.55am ( at the table in the front room)
The sky is blue with dawn. I have been up since six. I went to bed early, exhausted. I read two chapters of the Moomins with Naoise. I wish I had a magic hat that could conjure up a cloud to float upon.
All the interview preparation is eating up my time. No time for art this week, so much hangs on me making the best attempt to get this job. I just want to be able to feel less stressed about money and make better use of my skills and knowledge, feel like I have value outside of the home and my family. I will spend the day in the library reading articles and making sure I know my stuff.
Its hard work looking after P at home. I am catering for him in bed, lots of trays up and down the stairs. Lots of patience. Lots of listening and keeping him happy. His bandage comes off today.
I put on the new bra that I bought hastily in the supermarket; its too small, I will have to return it, not today though, no time. I failed to get a brown top and cardigan to match the charity shop skirt so had to buy a different dress and cardigan, luckily cheap in the sale.
Blue perhaps sends out more calming messages than the hot energy of red and mother earth. I need to be calm, I need to breath, I need not to panic. I need to be blue, a river, a vein, a life force running through others. A listener. A carer. An information provider. A confidence giver. An enabler.
I found the driving licence, and the passport and the degree certificates. I need them all.
I dreamt about living in a home with a sea view, chickens a wood burner and a garden big enough for Naoise to have a trampoline to jump on and a room where Syd could make as much noise on his guitar as he wanted.
The washing machine cycle has ended. The radiators hum and dry the wet clothes. Its just after seven, need to wake up my teenage boy. I have made his sandwiches. I need coffee, my head is a blur.
‘Women are just better at this stuff’: is emotional labor feminism’s next frontier?, Rose Hackman, Sunday 8 November 2015, The Guardian