I have three half-written posts waiting to be finished and made public, but I've run out of words. My life is busy, but domestic, full of things that don't seem like they'd be that interesting for anyone else, even though they're absorbing for me. Things like my troubles getting plumbers and plasterers to turn up when they say they will. The buggers come, look at what needs done, make soothing upbeat noises, promise to return in a few days, then don't show up. Funny way to run a business it seems to me.
Or like the weather and my last power bill, which was so huge that I thought there'd been a misprint. I love my heat pump/air conditioning unit but it would seem that it's a power hog.
Or like my new pilates venture. I'm having one on one sessions with a dauntingly perky and wonderfully encouraging pilates instructor/physiotherapy lecturer/physical coach. So far it consists of small movements that make me surprisingly stiff and tired. I feel taller and straighter already. Last time I was there, I sat down beside the client Cindy was seeing after me. He was an overwieght guy who looked very nervous because it was his first time. He told me that he'd been at the pool and Cindy had come over to him and said that he looked like he could use some help. "So here I am." I found that an oddly touching story. Because Cindy had been bold and kind enough to reach out to him even though that has the potential to go horribly wrong (what if he'd been offended?). And because he'd trusted her enough to put himself in a new and scary situation on the basis of a chance encounter.