I’ve got the flu, or a cold… it feels like the flu, man flu. I’m lying in a skin meltingly hot bath, on Sunday afternoon, feeling all wretchedly despondent because I don’t know what direction to send my blog in.
I expended great energy making gingerbread cookies, which my delighted daughter spent the whole afternoon decorating.
The proof of the pudding is in the eating however…and I am no baker. So the rest of this batch went in the bin.
Not to be disheartened, I tried my hand at wax melts.
They smell awesome, and their softness (beeswax and coconut oil in equal parts, with a 2 to 1 lavender and sandalwood blend) means they make adorable little massage bars, but now they’re finished, so am I.
I’ve written a pattern for Fingerless flower gloves with crocodile stitch.
I’ll share the pattern when my niece has taken better photos
And, of course….
Glue gun
I yearn to be one of those defined blogs what has a genre though, and I don’t think angry bitch is classed as one.
(My bad, I did a quick google search, and angry bitch is an utterly valid genre!)
But I aspire to a more Phoenix rising from the ashes narrative, to hide my angry bitch deep inside, like I do with the rest of my crazy. To stand proud and declare; “Here is my contribution to the blogosphere, all hail in the glory of….stuff?”
My true achievement of late has been decluttering my house and in swiftly refilling it with the burden of Sisyphus’ Christmas past, present and yet to come.
In doing so, I’ve mortifyingly discovered my house needs to be de-grimed, redecorated and fixed up.
This isn’t just 2 years of moribundity.
This is an M&S shit gathering vicious circle of ten years living in it, raising two kids, two dogs and being blind to wear and tear.
Right this instant, with purposeful excitement I sit up in a slosh of green scented water, I think I know what I can do.
Lack of sustained interest will always be my most detrimental flaw. Once I’ve finished a project, I want to move on. But each room will need a different feel, theme and decor. By clearing my house I’ve given myself a brand new canvas.
I’m gonna turn my council house into a country cottage.
Pretty witty Nell 
I thought that was last year…..? You need to add a 1/2 cup of ground ginger into your scorching bath. It makes everything seem right in the world again.
I think I know what you mean. Last year I set up a half arsed refurbishing thing called council house cottage, but I kind of got sucked into the world of doom and didn’t really progress with it. In the new year I’ve decided I’m going to focus my skills on bringing my home to a good standard. I’m hoping it will kick start me again.
What was last year? Having the flu or the ghost of Christmas clutter? I’d have been better putting the ginger in my bath as opposed to cookies…it might have been more edible.
I am jelly, I so rarely get a soak in a hot tub, but I always think I can. As to the house mess, I could bet you and win, especially after closing a retail store and not being home for months on end, that my house is a vile pile of grime, dust and random crap. However, I could never allow myself to photograph the mess. Shame is all I feel when I clean one area and then notice how much more needs to be done. Maybe I should quit replacing burned out light bulbs, they just shine a brighter light on the mess I have not gotten a handle on. I do not know how my mother managed to have such a spotless house with all the kids she reproduced year after year. (Damn Catholics) We were savages (well me and my brother were) and yet our house and ourselves were kept spotless and clean. Or at least my bother and myself were squeaky clean until we left the house, then all bets were off. We always returned home filthy little barbarians that needed to be hosed off outside the laundry room before she allowed us back in the house. Good luck with your remodeling/decorating etc in 2018. 😀
I’ve had a similar upbringing to you. Catholic mum, feckless father, and not two pennies to rub together. But where your mum kept things spotless, my mum kept everything, just in case we’d need it. When we cleared out her flat, and even now three month later, every item she has comes with it’s own story/sentimental attachment. So what looks like crap to us, is a big ole tangled ball of hope, dreams, happiness, grief, pain etc, etc the list goes on and on. Because, this clutter is her. She’d kept it all tangled because it had protected her and when we chipped/chip away and bin it, we’re exposing all this raw emotion and it’s painful.
Don’t feel bad or ashamed for having too much, it’s like asking yourself to tear off a bandage with your skin still attached. It needs to be eased off gently.
I’ve been working like a demon on orientation day in Hell or so I thought until I read your comment on Jan 28th. (Sorry I’m not so consistent in checking in at WP, my life is unpredictable.) But I think having to go through my mother’s things would be the worst punishment possible. Mother’s house still looks like no one actually lives there. With the exception of a few photos of her kids in the hallway to the bedrooms, everything is clean, a perfect model home and in my opinion, not comfortable or really that inviting. Even as a kid, sitting in her living room is like sitting in a department store set up. I understand it though, I like my stuff, home, clothes, etc organized too. So I can understand how since she could never control her husband (really who can?) or her children, a perfect house is something she can control. I think I feel the same. Still, I dread having to clear out her house. She wants me to be the executor of her will. Mother is not a hoarder but I still don’t want to do it. Hopefully I will die before she does so I never have to deal with it. I do not want to deal with any emotion, painful or otherwise. It is too dreadful to contemplate. I hope to continue in my own denial for whatever emotions exist out there. I might be a bit cold emotion wise. Or at least all my sisters and mother say so. My hubs says the opposite. You have my sympathy for all you are doing for your mother. You are a better man than I am, I can tell. 😊