Now, I have made rather a large hullabaloo (love that word) about giving up work, doing an Access course and returning to university in September, in order to achieve the lifestyle that I want for myself and my family.
But what happens when your lovely turn of the century house becomes riddled with dry-bloody-rot? (Incidentally, I’ve now decided ‘character’ and period features can go and shag themselves.)
And the money that would have topped up your childcare shortfall now has to be used to prop up your home.
Gutted and disappointed are something short of understatements.
Absolutely devastated is closer.
There’s always a ‘but’ is there not? The ‘but’ here, is that this is not a dream which has been destroyed, it has been shelved. It’s not that I can’t do it, I just can’t do it right now. And, my home and my family are by far the most important things in my life, so keeping them safe and secure is far more essential to me than a career that may or may not happen in four years’ time.
I would generally consider myself a pessimist, but I think I’m maturing into an optimist.
Is it frustrating? Hell, yes. Is it going to harm me or my family or make my life significantly unbearable? No.
I’m just going to roll with the punches here. And maybe have a quiet cry as the plaster of the walls is torn down and the joists of my home are replaced. The biggest pisser? The dust. I fucking hate dust.
In the meantime, if you need mushrooms, I’m your lady.