One of those Mondays.
I got up this morning after a disturbed night, dreaming I was trapped in a warehouse while it was on fire (I am not even going to start thinking of the metaphorical/neurological implications of this dream), to find that pretty much everything that would make the morning go smoothly, had not happened.
The dishwasher had sulked its way through a cycle, declining to wash about 50% of the pots I had loaded into it.
The washing machine had simply refused to turn itself on, even though I had programmed it the night before.
The children staggered downstairs with frankly, gargantuan piles of dirty washing from I know not where. I think they have trap doors in their bedroom floor and deliberately stash things in there, only to exhume them at times of extreme pressure. Either that or they have discovered the lost laundry mines of Klatch.
I had forgotten to grind new coffee beans last night, despite writing myself a note to do so, because I had run out. It’s not that I can’t grind beans in the morning, it’s just that it’s messy and time consuming and we are all trying to use the kitchen at the same time and it’s one more thing to be cluttering up an already overstretched kitchen work surface. Also, the grinder has the stupidest, smallest lead known to man and I spent ten minutes furiously grinding whilst simultaneously giving myself an impromptu facial with the steam from the kettle.
I have also thrown everything, everywhere since yesterday evening, and have been spending large amounts of my time crouched on the floor scrubbing things off of other things. Whoever picked shiny, white cupboards for this kitchen needed their head examining (it wasn’t me. I inherited it), truly. I think this eleventy times an hour at the moment as I chisel tomato pips, coffee grounds, bread crumbs, something that looks like Nutella, that I pray is Nutella, off the surfaces.
The day has progressed in this manner from the moment I got up and the barometer is set to steady, which means it will continue.
I will however, soldier on, given that going back to bed and pretending it never happened, is not an option.
I have been distracting myself with thoughts of Hildegard of Bingen – as you do.
I was thinking about my visual migraine aura. I read a book by Oliver Sacks about migraine and he was talking about the fact that they’ve probably been around for hundreds of years and the symptoms were just put down to other things. He makes the case for the visions of Hildegard of Bingen who believed she had seen the workings of God as being really stellar migraine symptoms.
Firstly I was thinking, poor Hildegard. Fancy being downgraded from being able to commune with God to having a nasty headache.
Secondly I was thinking, why haven’t I ever seen the face of God whilst in the full throes of a migraine? Unless God looks like a weird, monochrome ziggurat, in which case, ‘all hail the face of God?’
Some Hildegards get all the luck.