The House of Moans

J and I have never been early risers. We managed with the kids - we took turns if we were both at home - and got ourselves to work when we had jobs too, even if I was often late for the office. But I don't remember once getting out of bed with a spring in my step, even when sleeping late. I'm just not an 'up in the morning' kinda gal.

I don't understand those 5 and 6 a.m. folks... doing stuff, enjoying hours of a day, long before I even stir. But yeah, they probably go to bed early and I really don't. Even when I had a job to go to, I was rarely in bed before ten. Now I'm often anything up to 2 and 3 a.m. Much to J's chagrin because for some reason he likes me to be tucked up long before him. Something vaguely to do with snoring or something. Hah! J is usually 3, sometimes 4 so his 'long lie', isn't really too bad. But neither of us are productive in those late hours. Never have been, so not likely to start any time soon.

My beef here is... why do I get moaned at for lying so late. Why is it my fault if he lies until eleven when he insists on wanting up at the crack of ten? There is an alarm clock on either side of our bed. Mine only gets used on days when I need to be somewhere, or if we've to catch an early flight or something. On the, admittedly rare occasion that I'm up first, my first thought should by all accounts be 'get him up!' Aye right! But if I don't, the mumps and grumps until the coffee has percolated its way to his brain cells are hellishly abundant and I know not to speak, let alone ask questions. Except of course I do, speak, and always do seem to have questions haha. It's not even really directed at me, I know that, but I have to listen to it. He's in a bad mood with himself, but... why? Get up earlier if it annoys you man! Doesn't annoy me in the slightest. I'm a paragon of joy in the morning! (ahem!) I've been known to lie until two pm even if I haven't even been late the night before, although that was when I was much younger. I could sleep for Scotland!

I have the decency to be a tad ashamed of myself lying so late in the day, but this is decidedly less in the winter than in the summer. Every summer I tell myself I'll get into a 'healthier' routine because even I know it's bad not to enjoy a nice summer's day. I'm also aware of my days being numbered so I feel it's bad, at times, not to fully 'enjoy' them. I'm ok with myself when it's raining though, and if it rains for days on end, I let go of my resolution entirely. Feck thon, up'n aboot in the rain? Winters, why the heck would I get up in the dark? To do... what exactly? When we travel, we're always up and out early enough and in bed at 'normal'ish times, but we never manage to keep it up once we get home again.

I make plans... in my head. I'm going to sort out the shed and give myself room to do... stuff. Pick up and pound some clay again. Paint! Make.. something. Doesn't happen. I tell myself if I lived somewhere with decent bloody weather for more than two days in a row I would... I know I would... but last summer or maybe it was the summer before that, was great, with weeks of nice weather and it didn't happen then either. Not enough hours in the day! ;)

But I was talking about the moans. Now, these are not rare in this house. From either quarter. How people get along day after day without moans is beyond my comprehension. But I have limits. At a certain point, the moaning has to be called to a halt. Better yet, shouldn't even start. The days of nary a moan, not one, even, needn't be all that abundant, I'm not so demanding and I like a bit of leeway to unburden myself too. But just when you think, hey, nobody's moaned today! or oh, it's been a moan-free area since three p.m. yesterday! it's disheartening to be confronted with a new, unsolicited moan the minute you lift the blinds.

So we need to work on this. Of course sometimes, like when I myself am the instigator of said moans, they are obviously well in proportion to whatever grievance I'm harbouring and I dish 'em out fairly and logically. Bedclothes are distributed across the floor or draped nicely down the lower stairs entirely as they should be! I've yet to throw anyone's clothes out of window but I'm not entirely averse to the idea and have marginally managed to curtail such moans at the last minute up until now. Time yet though eh?

But no. I won't. And although I can't be bothered with NY resolutions, I will today resolve to, maybe, not moan as much and not instigate moans from... other parties. Of course this will all go down the pan when moans are directed at me but hey, I'm trying here.

We're off for a few days to Krakow so, always fun and games when even getting to town here is a major expedition and quite the undertaking to get there without falling out but, looking forward to it. I've said fifty times, I'm going nowhere with you ever again! only to be planning a new trip within a couple of weeks haha. It's apparently what we do and how we go along. I wonder if I'd miss the moans, and having nobody to moan at, if we stopped moaning like, today. Maybe we should give it a go. Thon first thing in the morning one can definitely go, for me. Won't miss that at all.

The Tigofa Years

'It's bloody Saturday again already.'

I hear myself say it and realise... I say this, or similar, A LOT! Probably at least five times a week on the varying days in varying ways but all saying the same thing. 'Sheesh, Monday again already!' 'Woohoo, Friday again already!' It's like my life is racing away, despite the sedentary pace I tend to work. Apart from being a tad, well, predictable, it's infinitely boring. I should attempt to be a better conversationalist at the very least.

But it's true, it's Saturday again already! It's quite the phenomenon that you notice time flying by as you get older. It's already nearly Christmas for goodness sake! I'm sure there's a word for it. Bonkers! I hear you say, yeah, you're a hoot 'n a half.

Not actually knowing what the-older-you-get-the-faster-time-seems-to-go, is called - honestly, it's like 'you'll have had your tea!' and 'you're out of here!' all wrapped into one - I've decided to call it The Time Goes Fast Years... abbreviated to Tigofa... The Tigofa Years. Copyright, me! I'm not sure where exactly to lay the emphasis, I will leave that to the user. It's a wee bit reminiscent of The Big Yin's 'gettyfu' but with less sweary connotations. I would actually like the tigofa years to gettyfu but there is no taming them.

So, The Tigofa Years... you're welcome. Feel free to use it any time it's appropriate but remember where you heard of this life period first so-called. There's your childhood, your teenage, prime of life, middle age, then it seems to jump to The Tigofa Years! I'm quite chuffed with it and anything that makes the tigofa years go by with less irritation can't be a bad thing. Maybe somebody could invent the Slothfudo Years too though. (I'll leave that with you to decipher, answers on a postcard please ;) ).