All that spring rain and warm sun has made the grass grow. In fact, it’s grown so much that Merlin gets lost in it. Well, he did the one time he bothered to attempt to wade through it. Now, the weather has turned again and it’s been just gloriously sunny outside. And hot. And this sudden bout of hot, sunny weather has knocked the stuffing right out of me so I’ve started my summer hibernationa bit early. I’m thinking about where to put my fan. I’ve � closed my curtains to keep the sun and heat out. I’ve removed the woolrest from my bed and replaced it with a dimpled topper pad.

Now all I need it to not have to leave the house and my summer sentence will begin in earnest. And one of the most common aspects of this sentence will be hearing the words “oh, did I wake you?” at the other end of the phone.

“I have MS. MS and summer time don’t play well together. It’s summer time and I am asleep. Of course you fucking woke me.”

I’m just not a summer person, you understand.

But anyway, while I am vegetating in bed, I will pass another annual milestone - the anniversary of the beginning of a longer sentence. A life sentence. I will turn 41 and you know what THAT means… that makes me an “over 40s” bod, but I won’t have to worry about that until I wake up in March. I won’t have to worry too much about christmas, either. I hate bloody christmas. All those years married to the kids sperm donor, every christmas was a screaming, scrapping, stressful, nasty time when the “work do” in public would mutate into a personal shitfest in private with a resulting physical, material and emotional fallout that lasted forever. Every bloody year. And now, while it carries a completely different emotional fallout, at least the house doesn’t get trashed in someone’s drunken rage. I can break it myself now.

It’s all good :-D

Here’s an oldie for ya.

From the day of our birth
Til we return to the earth
Our lives are all twisted and snarled
Not being true to ourselves
And those with whom we dwell
Makes a life become boring, banal

To reach for the goals
Dig for treasure in holes
Is happiness just too remote
Just a nebulous thing
Whose tail holds the sting
As on Misery’s coattails we float

As each new day dawns
And new life is born
A resurgence of hope can we feel
To take all our lumps
And ride over the bumps
And before suffering and pain never yield

Never lose sight of the dream
Of the lessons you’ve seen
Of the trials that you’ve overridden
For a life without love
Of One you raise above
Rendered voiceless, unfinished and hidden.