Again I sit at a computer in the local library. Outside the heat is stultifying, and I am feeling wilted and limp, a fading fragile flower tenuously yet desperately clinging to the bloom of youth and vigour. It's like I'm in a Tennessee Williams play. But the reality is I'm just an old weed withering in the sweltering heat. And I've got a tummy ache to boot.
I have spent five days holidaying en famille in the lake district of the Lower Hunter, and it was delightful. We rented a cottage where our dogs were welcome, and there were DVDs and puzzles provided. My kids watched the 'Back to the Future' trilogy over and over and over. I watched 'The English Patient', sniffling somewhat, as well as 'To Kill A Mockingbird'. It is impossible to not feel chilled when Atticus Finch finalises his summation to the jury: 'In the name of GOD, do your duty. In the name of God, BELIEVE Tom Robinson!'
The boys fished, and swam. I was introduced by my 12yo to another holidaying kid thus: 'This is Simone. I just call her Mum, but sometimes Grammar Nazi'. Is he dropping a hint? Perhaps. I am already toying with the idea of approaching a local realtor who has advertised an upcoming clearance sale on premises 'formally known as'. Oh dear. People, if something is described as 'formally', it means polite, proper, sticking to accepted ritual and protocol. If you want to refer to a past situation, then the word is 'formerly'.
That's it for now. I'm sick. I'm here because I need to print something from my email and I can't get it to load for some reason. I might have to return tomorrow. Tomorrow is a big day for my family: my 12yo starts high school.
So many things with which I must deal: high schoolers, heat, and a house that still looks like it has simultaneously crapped and vomited. I try not to let it get to me too much, but it's oh so difficult, my friends.
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