I’ve spent today feeling frustrated. Thoroughly frustrated. Frustrated at the lack of progress in so many aspects of my life; work, rest, play. I’m a cauldron of energy with restricted means through which to channel any creativity, due to matters that are out of my control- the most frustrating thing of all.
The family and I are living in a building that’s dark and damp; walls are screaming to be knocked down and carpets are needing to be pulled up, but nothing can be touched. Not yet. Instead I must Pin and plan, explore and discover, jot down and dream. (I still absolutely loathe Pinterest, for the record, but it is handy- albeit ludicrously slow.)
Filled with eleven and a half long, slow, cold months of imagining, The Mind of Me is reaching fever pitch. Even the pooches are entering a state of increasing discontentment and they’ve got their luxurious kennel in which to lie, a Mutt House lovingly painted by my good self last summer. Nice little afternoon project I had thought. Seven hours later and, finally, the wretched thing was covered in English Heritage Pale Jasmine.
To get back to my slightly more serious point- not that matters of the mongrel variety aren’t of the utmost importance- a plea to those at the top; kindly pop a fair few rockets up your rears and get a move on. Or it will be my frustrations that come rocketing, at full force, in your direction.
P.s If you’re just itching to see my canine-related handy work you may have to pleasure of doing so here.