I reckon if I just put a rug over it, that's pretty much me done*
I have never (to my knowledge) known anyone who's needed to "find themself". I have never had the urge to find myself. I am right here on the sofa woofing down a can of salted cashews like there is no tomorrow. In fact, I can barely type because I am so hungry and can't stop eating them. Why? Well, I decided I should start a diet, literally eat less cause I eat too much, and now I am really, really hungry. I can't stand being hungry, and that is probably the fundamental basis of dieting, and that combined with the fact that I am woofing back these cashew nuts, is probably not going to make my bum smaller.
Nonetheless, here I am, now utterly parched from all that salt, and I am completely off-topic. The point is, I have inadvertantly discovered an awful truth about myself. And not through going off to Thailand and laying on a beach, though that mught be nice, and I might lose weight as I don't really like Thai food. No, sadly I was reading my own blog. I was reading it because someone I met in the past few months has asked if they can read it and I thought I better just make sure I hadn't inadvertantly mentioned them somewhere or said something that they'd get upset with. Quite why though I started reading from the beginning I have no idea, but I did and it was a bit like reading about someone else.
And that person is LAZY. Totally and utterly. I think I have always painted it as 'procrastination', but no, now that it's all laid out in front of me in black and white and sometimes photographic blog form, I can see it for what it is. I have always known that I am not tidy; that I hate cleaning, but looking back, I am just kidding myself. I patently just. can't. be. bothered.
I'd like to think I had changed. I'd love to say that this move to Berlin has made me into a nicer, tidier, cleaner person, but it hasn't. Today, I got a call while I was at the doctor's with Hamish from the guy who's been looking at our mouldy window in the back bedroom to say he wanted to come round again to have another look. Hamish and I raced back, and I had a half hour to get the place into a reasonable shape for a 'guest'. I went into the bedroom and saw a mountain of assorted crap on the floor. I could have sorted out the dirty washing from the boxes of contact lenses and shin guards and shoes, but I didn't. I did my usual and opened the wardrobe and stuffed the whole lot in, and told Hamish not to go near the wardrobe doors lest he be lost in a freak wardrobe avalanche.
I then went round the other rooms and did pretty much the same thing, throwing toys into boxes they didn't come from, and cleaning only the bits of the bathroom floor that you can see. Unfortunately I missed the little brioche roll we'd been keeping behind the sofa that sits 2 feet in front of the living room window where the man stood and took some more photos. It would have been better for me if it had stayed stuck to the sole of his shoe and he'd taken it away with him.
Tomorrow I have a plumber coming round at 8am. We have a leak under the sink. I have had to force myself to clean and tidy the kitchen tonight. Not even my shame is enough. I had to bribe myself with the cashew nuts to get myself to scrub the kitchen floor. If I thought I could put it off until tomorrow I would have. But I am too lazy to get up at 6 am to get started on it.
The only thing going in my favour is the fact that I did actually sort out the pile of crap stuffed into the wardrobe tonight. But that was only after Stevie inadvertantly decided to get himself ready for football training...
* Actually, I would just like to point out that this photo was taken just after we moved in. It's not like that anymore. Honestly... Half of it is hidden by our dining room table and chairs.