Thursday, April 27, 2006


I have repainted my entrance hall, and at a stroke have gone from Barnacle Bill to Yosemite Sam. It might look too South West but it is growing on me, a bright mustardy olive green like babycack.

Anyway it is only paint.

A vague anxiety at the back of my mind while painting is that the new Client is coming on Friday so I need not only to have the paint/ladder/dustsheets away, but to catch up on normal cleaning. This anxiety is disproportionate, he probably won't even notice. Why see my activities through someone else's imaginary critical eye? Sometimes I get stuck on someone's supposed opinion for weeks, a bit like those people who temper their every move by asking, what would Jesus do? (or my favourite: who would Jesus bomb?) This is not a wholesome attitude, I wonder how much other people do it.

This second-guessing only applies to areas where I know I am lacking, especially housewifery. I am utterly bumptious in other sections of my life, aesthetics or work.


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