I have to admit I'm struggling today. The post-viral, post-move, para-new job and new life exhaustion is a bit consuming. And much as I like the children I'm looking after, and am happy just to be working, my brain seems to have been stashed in a cupboard somewhere. Yesterday we went to a children's music thing and I was dancing about shaking bells and maracas while the three-year-old watched me cooly. Baby C loved it though, and danced around like a miniature hippy. I miss words and thinking and, to some extent, adults.
Tonight I have what could tentatively be referred to as a date. I say tentative because he is almost 30 years younger than me and I'm not entirely sure about this. I may pull out a hanky, spit on it and wipe his face.