For three week now I have had more time on my hands. Tuesday the 8th April we put our one remaining dog, Flynn to sleep. He was fifteen years and one month and had enjoyed a wonderful life. His liver failed. There was no choice. I shall write an homage to our boy in another post. One when I’m not due out for drinks and dinner at a London venue where puffy eyes are frowned upon by the unbotoxed, at least.
The following day Mr Carmichael had his scheduled knee operation. It was a biggy, week-wise in Casa Carmichael.
That same week we had builders repairing a leaking roof and bathroom beneath. There were approximately nine of them inside a confined space, thankfully upstairs, all hurrying to finish the refit because I had indicated future displeasure if they did not leave by Friday evening. Mr C and his new knee were reappearing on the scene midday Saturday and I wanted, nay needed, the construction accoutrements gone. For his safety and my sanity. Which had been tested through the previous five days. They left and left a dreadful job behind them. I am not going to name and shame because two more full days work this week and replacement of all the tiles, grouting and most of the paint and I am all but happy with the snagging. And I have purchased some stunning Designers’ Guild towels to go with. #goldengreenyyellowdelight.
Going with the glory of the towels and a list of far bathroom rules. 1) towels remain in said bathroom. They do not transport themselves to bedroom floors various or to uni daughter’s residence in Birmingham. 2) they are not used when fake tan is being applied. 3) they are not used when hair colour is applied. 4) they are hung in the order I have demonstrated. Mr Carmichael appears too frightened to use them and has been seen taking his own white one down the hallway. I think I can count that as a success, don’t you?
So that was the week that was. I could have done with some Prozac. I made do with wine. And had many moments where I could not talk to anyone coherently and without shaking. Looking back, I was obviously a tad stressed but these times happen don’t they? And our only choice is to make it through.
We all miss Flynn dreadfully. For those who have followed mrscarmichael’s blog for a while will know that we lost our other Goldie, Bertie, last June. Two within a year could be considered flakey but he was even older than his brother and in many ways had an even more magical life. Making ‘Naughty Dog’ a Life’s Work, my tribute to him. Seventeen years of being a doggy family.
All you dog owners will know exactly where I’m coming from and those who haven’t got a dog yet can imagine, I’m sure. All the things I don’t have to do now. All the things I don’t get to do. And the little electric thought shocks keep on coming. I need to get home for Flynn. He needs letting out, feeding, walking. You get the idea.
And this is why I have more time on my hands now. I have to do more things now I’m not quite so tied to hearth and home. I have a lot of ideas.
This morning I decided it was time to spring clean the fridges. I have been on a mini shopping go slow these past few days (more detail in a future post) and thus the timing was ideal. Since Goldie and Big Foot departed their goldfish coil and I gleefully hurled their house into the bin, cleaning the fridges has taken over from fishtank as a most hated job. Ahhh but the completer achiever in me loves the result.
Now I guess I should go shopping but before I do let me tell you about some of the other plans I have for more personal housekeeping.
I have bought walking boots. They are very ugly and I haven’t worn them in yet but I have been walking. Proper walking as opposed to the elderly dog amble Flynn and I had become accustomed to of late. I have been tramping the trails we did when the boys were younger and I have been remembering many of the eventful incidents with a grin on my face. As I say, another post.
I do appear to have broken/disjointed my toe. But I will treat this as a set back not a failure and still join the Chiltern Ramblers.
I am determined to go back on my diet next week. That’s the body sorted then.
Free time for my mind will involve more writing. See, I’m doing it already. Right now I should be donning my glad rags for my evening in Blackfriars but I’m here, typing on my pc. It’s a good thing, I think. As long as I can stop myself feeling guilty for doing it. #speedtyping.
Another thing I have decided to do now I’m free as a bird is to get out and see more things. You have already seen evidence of my determination in Art Meets Architecture (A Cultural Diversion) a most successful, get out and do want you want for as long as you want, exercise. I even went to a movie straight afterwards. #liberating.
Mr Carmichael is surpassing all predictions on knee recovery so his days as Lady Penelope are all but over now he can drive his own Thunder Bird again. And mine as chauffeur vanishing in a puff of exhaust smoke.
My mind is feeling, oh so much, cleaner already. I just have to force myself to stay away from the puppy pages on Champ Dogs. #howlongwillthatlast?