Diamonds and Stones

  

Some weeks are just shit.

Monday may start out well, but through a complex process of interpersonal interactions, disappointments, reality-checks, injustices and unreasonable deadlines, by the time Friday night comes around, the final assessment can be summarised in that one word. Shit.

I probs shouldn't use the word 'shit' in case my mother is reading. Although I figure I'm pretty safe given that she told me today that her computer's not working. I called in to see her on my way home. I just sat on the sofa that she's had since I was 4, drank the tea she made me, and listened to her catalogue of the week's activities of 'senior citizens' outings, Tuesday club, volunteering at a school and a church, and walks with her neighbour Amy. My mother has volunteered at the same school for fifteen years, ever since her retirement. It's a school for young people who, for a variety of reasons can't be in mainstream schools. And my elderly mother goes and cooks with them, and does craft with them, and goes on their overnight trips to exotic locations like Dubbo. That pretty much blows my mind. Then she showed me the new plantings in her garden and drilled me on when her bougainvillea would flower and what did I think of her new garden edging? It was a nice hour or so. And apart from the fact that the sofa could really do with either re-springing or putting out with the Council Clean-up, it was surprisingly comforting.

And now it's Friday night on my street.

And there's a tangello in the fruit bowl.

So what are you doing this weekend?

In Sydney, it's promising to be sunny. I'm going to the library which is about 100m from my house. I'm going to the library because I figure, if I am every going to counter my weird work-avoidance, that four hours there, will be worth eight hours at home.

And I'm going to eradicate the last remnant of the week from my bones and my being.