Monday, 1 December 2008

Miserable nonsense and fruit salad

Grit is sinking into a death hole of paralysis, thanks to the fact that she realises the calendar has inescapably moved round and it is now DECEMBER. This means Grit can no longer hide behind November with her fingers wedged in her ears singing lalalalala! Can'thearyou! Can'thearyou!

December is the cruelest month and sod the rest. The days are so cold and painfully dark. Colder now that the boiler which serves the kitchen and all downstairs rooms has finally done what it has been threatening to do for weeks, and broken down good and proper. Darker that yesterday evening the lights popped off phut! Because of what we do not know, but suspect the mouse chewing through the cables at the partying speed of a calorie-innocent Tiger with a packet of ginger nuts.

Add to our broken boiler and happy mouse, all the inevitable darkening December skies, the summoning letter to the cervical smear, the milk bill I lost, the oven door that falls off, the apple chutney I didn't make, the rain on my newly hung washing which I forgot about anyway and has been there three days, and all the miserable sky in its grey leaden end-of-2008 foreboding. And tell me things don't look grim. I'm going to have to grit these ground-down teeth and remind myself, before I lose it completely and tie the noose, that every problem has a solution, every cloud a silver lining, and there is a bright side of sunshine if only I look for it.

OK then, that silver lining might be that if the sun disappeared for December and all the world went whoomph, it would spare me the terrible pointlessness of hope. I have discovered that this dreadful thing called hope starts out alright with optimism by its side but after a few years hope dumps optimism and reveals its true nature which is the slow deadly destruction of the soul.

So it's December. Grit those teeth. I may not hope, not for bright days, hot water, warm rooms, support for when I cry, the reassurance of a husband's hand, a cat to kick, any intimate turn-the-lights-down-low love, but I have other reasons to get out of bed, surely. Tiger's smile, snuggling down into her bed if I kiss her awake, Squirrel's joy on seeing her pink socks wrapped round her newly filled hot water bottle, and the sight of Shark sunk in a book for hours at a stretch.

And if Tiger growls and scowls, if I get the wrong socks and if Shark snarls go away forever, I might beat my head in lonely despair but I will not give in. I will live through this miserable December with all its woes.

Because there is always fruit salad.

8 comments:

Jaywalker said...

Goodness Grit. Are you by any chance living in my frontal cortex?

The Finely Tuned Woman said...

Grit, I'd like to donate a large portion of optimism to you, but I'm afraid that in these dark days I have to hold on to every bit of it myself and I can't be generous and hand any out.

At least you have fruit salad, which is more than I have, although I don't have gritlets, so that makes it a bit easier for me.

I think I don't have the energy now to raise my left hand and grab for the vodka bottle on the top shelf of the kitchen cupboard while I pour orange juice with the right. I need something to cheer me up and, although I take all these pills, none of them are of the cheer me up variety.

What is a women to do. I say we take a cheap flight to the Bahamas and check out pretty boys while dressed in sarongs that hide our middle aged bodies and drink many tropical alcoholic beverages with umbrellas. We'll draw straws for who gets the prettiest boy. We need a minimum of 2 weeks to recuperate, before we head home to face the awful truth that is our life. Are you game?

Angela said...

Now hey,that does sound like a nice solution!
By the way, have you ever considered pushing your gritlets back into a school with a headmistress and bench rows and them stucked away for a whole forenoon? Maybe you just need a break and they some real cruel life after all?
Don`t be so sad, we all want you to be happy again! Here, eat some juicy marzipan!

Kitty said...

"I have discovered that this dreadful thing called hope starts out alright with optimism by its side but after a few years hope dumps optimism and reveals its true nature which is the slow deadly destruction of the soul."

Never a truer word written. That is a truly beautiful sentence, and one which (I suspect) can only be appreciated by those who have been down to the depths themselves.

Hang on in there Grit - the shortest day is less than a week away, then it starts getting better.

x

Mr Farty said...

x

Potty Mummy said...

And there was me thinking that November was the month that sapped away all hope.

We're more than halfway through, Grit. Have courage! x

Grit said...

hello folks, and thank you for your comments. i am a miserable git. don't let me get away with it.

or i can check out the water temperature for snorkelling in the bahamas.

sharon said...

Oooh, I'd go for the Bahamas solution myself ;-)