Tuesday's always worse

I'm just feeling a bit wobbly this morning. I just read this which I wrote just after my dad died, with tears streaming down my face. It just happened to be there on the computer as I had been showing someone something else and having a laugh looking at the same old stupid things that I wrote. But I had Clare here yesterday afternoon for five hours. She just got back from her dad's funeral and needed to talk. Well I listened, and it was hard. I almost couldn't do it. If she leans on me any harder I think I might fall over.

Anyway, it's probably due to nicotine withdrawal and small blonde things asking too many questions before I've had chance to even get out of bed. They're quiet now, eating porridge and maple syrup. At times like that I could happily send them to school and go to work. Maybe I need a job...But I still can't bring myself to do it, really, the school thing, that is. Clare actually reminded me of how hard the playground is when you're not a desperate housewife. I'm not the only one who used to drop off late so as to avoid the plastic smiles. Is that a good enough reason not to do it?

I was doing so well yesterday, too. Painted the kitchen, well, 2 walls. And ended up quite exhausted, but having achieved. We didn't go out, but the children played quite happily with farmset/playmobil/etc and had little Lu the play for five hours. O, and the dog's gone, too, of course.

I'm just stuck about how to make the house work for everybody in it. The main problem seems to be the computers being in a room that have stairs leading directly up to Meg's attic with no door in between. So no privacy. Nowhere to put a door. The room's not really big enough either as the stairs stick out too far. So I could: Move the stairs and add door, move computers but where to? swap Meg with the boys.  

I keep trying to get the house sorted with shelves, but too many movable factors; I can't decide anything. So I'm doing the kitchen. And now I've inadvertantly bought and amp and some speakers from Ebay, and where do I put those? And when exactly am I supposed to find the time to got over to St Helens to pick them up?

Anyway, the tears have dried now into salty crusts on my cheeks. I haven't felt like that for ages. Must have been stuff about my dad, but sometimes I think it's not that I'm sad about, it's just like watching a weepy movie, just something to jerk the tears out that are always there, lurking. O, I'm so not a morning person, am I?