Sulk

I don't wish to complain. Or, dash it, I do. Today was the first day of the post-Mum's-flat life - the first time since I retired, more or less, that I was hoping to please myself a bit without thinking too much about other people.

More or less immediately after I did retire, Grandson was born (not that I'm complaining about THAT - but it was exciting and wonderful but not exactly a calm time). Then Daughter 2 got married. Then Mum got ill, had her operation and took a long time to get a bit better, during which time we moved her out of her flat, a long process that finished yesterday. So today was to have been: choir rehearsal with the orchestra, then home, then choir concert. Lovely music to soothe the troubled whatnot. It's not that I'm a born performer, but at the actual concert, people concentrate and do their best and watch the conductor and it's usually good.

But Mum is still not well. I think she's a bit better this evening but earlier in the day... I won't go into details but it involved a complete change of bedding and pyjamas. So I didn't feel I could go to either the rehearsal or the concert. Mr Life is a good chap but there are some things that one shouldn't be called upon to do for one's mother-in-law.

Ah well. I did cut the grass in the sunshine, congratulating myself that Mum's grass is no longer my problem. Then I lay on the lawn for ten minutes admiring the clouds.

Now I'm off to do my piano practice. There's another complaint, now I come to think about it. Why did nobody warn me that playing the piano is quite that hard? I can do the hands separately - no bother. I could win prizes for that. But whoever imagined that trying to make your two hands playing similar but not exactly the same things would be a handy way to create music? It's like meringues - which cave woman sat with a bowl and some egg whites and thought maybe if she beat them for three hours with a forked stick, they'd go all fluffy? I'd have got fed up after three minutes.

I have a mixer, but even with a forked stick I feel that making meringues is a lot easier than playing the piano.

Talking of fluffy things: Cassie cat wants to sit on my computer chair. Because I'm occupying it, she's walking to and fro in front of my face. Her fur is going up my nose.

And I haven't seen Grandson since Wednesday. Wail!

(And I've just noticed a misrelated participle in my previous post!! ARGH!! I've fixed it now.)