My reading corner

Happy Domesticity after a week away.

Theoretically, I have a playroom full of children's toys (and ball pools and bubble tubes and music makers and general mess creators), and a sitting room full of books and quieter entertainments. Theoretically; I can walk away from the mess at the end of the day and into a quiet corner in a clean and restful room and put my mind in order. Theoretically; I can welcome unexpected guests and host meetings for social services (ah the joys of being a fostercarer) at the drop of a hat.

In practice, of course, it doesn't work like that. It's the best room for the doll's house to live in, it's the best place to keep all my mountain of unfiled paperwork, it's the place where the girls play whilst waiting for the school bus, it's where my computer sits and where bits of jigsaw puzzle and car track wait patiently to be reunited with their peers.

But I do have one little cosy corner in it. It isn't much of a corner perhaps, and too close an inspection of the bookshelves would leave much to be desired. But it does look lovely in the evenings. Nice lamp don't you think? Bittersweet; it is a gift one of Goldy's relatives bought for Goldy to give to me once she was settled in to her new home. It came with a card, thanking me for being the light of Goldy's life for so long. It didn't get to me until Goldy's funeral in the end. It is a perfect lamp to read by though.


Oh the poinsettia? It died whilst we were away. The lamp shines on though.

In other news, I am close to despair. Bob has perhaps 3 days' work left. Do visit that link if you haven't seen it before. It has pictures of my kitchen ceiling, or what remained of it when it fell on top of him, thanks to a long term leak from my upstairs neighbour's washing machine. Today I felt water dripping on me as I walked into the kitchen. Same neighbour, same washing machine, two years later. I cannot cope with this. At least this time whilst my neighbour still refused to open her door, she did read the note I pushed through it and appears to have stopped the leak. For now. Last time I had to turn off the mainst stopcock until the ceiling stopped dripping, as she wouldn't talk to me. I'm having a hard time loving my neighbour at the moment - I'll be honest, I really don't love her very much at all. I would love her to move away, does that count? So much of the endless building project has been complicated by damage from the upstairs family; I am so tired of it all.
Tia