It’s a Love-Hate thing…

Recently I have been dwelling on who I am as a person, from the way I sleep to what perfume I wear and why – strange it may be but I have convinced myself that being under my own microscope is good for soul.

I live an ordinary life. I’ve almost accepted that. Almost.

Let me clarify, when I say ordinary, I mean normal, average, run of the mill, commonplace. Mundane. Clear?

I know, I know, I should be grateful. Ordinary has it’s up-side. I could be some human mutant with skin stretchy enough to be able to wrap my lower lip over the top of my head, or and über-fertile woman prone to giving birth to sextuplets and now be a proud mother of thirty-six indistinguishable, media-loving brats or someone who really does train-spot. Then my life would be considerably worse than the one I am leading now, but even knowing this is not much comfort as it should be.

I might have an ordinary life but it’s not a terribly boring one as my daughter fills those awful silent moments I used to dread, with so much laughter and joy and silly antics – she is the love of my life and I have a partner who is completely and utterly mad about me, that still, after all this time thinks I am sexy, which at sometimes is possibly the most annoying thing ever as I obviously don’t see the same person he does, but even when I growl at him or brush it off when he tells me I’m sexy, deep down inside it’s an ego rush that I couldn’t compare to anything else.

I have great friends, I have lost a lot of friends since moving to Cape Town, and before I was completely cut up about it but now I am so relieved because, sadly, I regarded them as my friends but they just knew me or saw me as an ‘acquaintance’ and at least I now know that I no longer have to waste my time on them.

I’m getting side-tracked…

I want to have a quick run down on what makes my day and what makes me want to tear my hair out strand by strand from the root.

I hate littering – I love it when I see someone pick something up (that wasn’t theirs) and throw it away
I hate people that push in queues – I love seeing a young person give way to an older person, or a man giving up his seat for a woman.
I hate unmade beds – I love it when its made with fresh linen
I hate ‘one-sip-left’ milk left in the fridge – I love it when my fridge is full
I hate winter – I love spring
I hate being cold – I love cuddling next to Justin’s warm body
I hate people that want you to listen to their problems but don’t give you the time of day when you need a shoulder to cry on – I love knowing I have people that I can phone at 3 in the morning if I need to
I hate onions – I love the smell of frying onions

The list goes on, but I want to keep you as a reader so I won’t bore you with the rest.

Just one more thing …

I absolutely love flowers – they heal, they are important. They are so much more than a cheerful, colourful present. Flowers are there when you are born and all the way through until we die. They offer comfort and assurance; plus they articulate stuff most people can’t manage. People need flowers to say sorry and thank you, and cheer up, and I love you, and all the other difficult we inadequate humans can’t bring ourselves to say – just like music.

Music is the other love in my life.


*extracts from Love Lies by Adele Parks

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