Tag: writing

  • Ragnarok

    Friday. My end of the week. Still struggling with my altered, torch singer-with-a-cold voice, I headed to work already dreaming about the end of the day. Once again, an early day… that morphed into a late day, causing me to be so grateful I hadn’t booked myself for clinic. By the time I left job…

  • Misery loves solitude

    The last day of November for another year, and my head is a cloudy mess. Full of jumble and lacking a voice, somehow I made it through the day. I’d like to say I was treated to hot tea and foot rubs all day, but alas, I’m neither rich nor on vacation. Instead, I made…

  • Viral

    Long day, feeling as though my chest was caving in. Breathing got tighter as the day progressed, with intermittent wheezy-coughing beginning in the evening. Luckily, I don’t work tomorrow. Oh wait, that’s a dream hahahaha. Nope, full day of clinic ahead. Trying to figure out now how to work without coughing on anyone, although without…

  • Choices

    One way lies the steady, the tried and the true Each day lined up, you know what to do The other way there be monsters Potentially awaiting. Or could there be glory, forever unabating Which direction to go, the question remains Both could incur loss, as the other one reigns So listen to your heart…

  • Monday morning dreaming

    There’s a bite in the air today, although the weather is warmer than it was. Something about the end of November makes me long for a warm blanket and a fireplace. Especially on a Monday, I often wish I could call in sick, lay on the couch all day and devour book after book, looking…

  • Hausfrau

    I was possessed by the spirit of a manic 1950s housewife today. That’s the only explanation I have for what transpired. I had a list as long as my arm of things I needed to get done. Some day, eventually. Not necessarily on a nice Sunday. But I woke up with the NEED to clean…

  • Underdog

    Each day is a struggle to get to the middle, but battered and bruised, he never falters. Pushing, fighting, scratching and climbing, struggle is all that she knows. It’s not about the win, it’s about the journey, never giving up, never giving in. He’s every hero we’ve ever aspired to be, not the one born…

  • Weeks end

    Another week has flown and I review it all with tired bemusement as I sit, feet up, watching children’s cartoons. I’m tired but content. We’ve had a lovely cough/gastro bug going around that decimated the week for the kids. Poor Sam, for the first time I can remember she was excited to go to school…

  • Date with my children

    When did it happen? I realized today that in one short month another year is over. Holidays are here with Black Friday madness spilling over the borders, and my children are getting older by the moment. The little gremlins welcomed me home with sticky faces and half pyjama-clad bodies, hungry the way only small children…

  • Mercy

    What is mercy at the end of the day? Is it better to give kisses than kicks? Is it the cool touch of a cup, on a hot summer’s day, a chair at the end of the road? Is it comfort in an old friend, or kindness from a stranger? Mercy is a quality which…