Light relief from eyes out on stalks

No rest for the wicked, none but the brave deserve the fair, God helps those who help themselves, and  tomorrow I am going to stop procrastinating.

If I were a more methodical person,  I would not be in this muddle of paper, calculations, summaries, conceptual confusion, or call it what you may. Not only must one calculate what has been spent, but one must gaze into the unknown future and make some some estimates, which can vary from wild guesses to  relative probability. Where's the crystal bowl when it is needed? Will I need plumbers, electricians, painters or handymen? Last year we failed to get the air conditioners serviced, so this year it ought to be done.

I am the sort of person who chucks receipts into a box, and sorts them out only in cases of the very direst necessity. I do note down most items of expenditure, I check my credit card statements, and I always pay my bills on time, and do not run up debts. However, I cannot keep figures in my head, and nor can I move them easily around my mind and memory. This means that when I do (try to) sort them all out and make logical, tidy and methodical summaries, things fall out of my mind and I tend to forget what was there. I wish it were not so, but alas, it is indeed so, and I suppose I can always add age and decrepitude to a naturally deficient intellect when it comes to numbers. But perhaps a truer explanation is a simple conviction, born out of centuries of conditioning, that I should not have to worry my pretty little head about such matters. Logically and rationally, I do not believe this for a single second, but oh, how I would like it if someone else did it all for me. Well, this is never going to happen, and so I strive personfully to keep my affairs in order.  When this task has been satisfactorily accomplished, perhaps I won't have to do it again for the foreseeable future.

I buy plastic folders and envelopes, so as to maintain some semblance of order, but the number of folders required seems to multiply exponentially. Periodically it is necessary to spread everything out all over the floor, and sort them all, and then hope for the best. Another of those little voices insists that there are better things to do with one's life, and suggests cunningly that taking a break with some music in the background and a good book is a far preferable way of squandering time. Oh yes!

The reason for all this torture is an impending appointment with the lawyer. All my financial details and circumstances must be revealed to whomsoever they may concern.

The appointment was actually scheduled for yesterday, but when the lawyer rang to confirm the appointment, I confessed that I had not finished all the financial summaries. Accordingly the appointment was deferred until Monday. Just do the best you can, she said soothingly.

So while the cleaners vacuumed, I kept a-sorting. Most things are now in some kind of order, but there is much addition to be done, and forms to be filled in.

Analysing the patterns of expenditure, I note that small and frequent food shopping has replaced the large weekly shopping expedition. Petrol costs me very little now, and it is not worth chasing discount vouchers. Pharmacy costs have fallen hugely. Overall my cost of living has gone up, now that the expenditure is borne by myself alone.

Nonetheless it seems a good idea to indulge in little treats. I have bought some new clothes. The sales have been on, practically nothing fitted me any more, and this year there were so many purple clothes being sold. The contents of the wardrobe now reveal an even more extensive range of purple garments.

I continue to buy CDs and books - in fact, I cannot seem to stop, but I am managing to read more, as there are fewer interruptions. At the second-hand market today I found the Cambridge Companion to Jane Austen, for a mere $5. It was a bargain. Cleaning costs are less, as I do not make very much mess. I keep buying wool, and am full of good intentions about using it. Anyway, there has been a month long wool sale, which simply cannot be ignored. Such bargains - the yarns are so gorgeous. How can such temptation possibly be resisted? Not many people were trying to resist, judging from the lengthy queues at the cash register, on each occasion that I popped in to see what I myself could not resist. Hordes of happy females were there, eagerly examining wools, selecting colours, with many a helpful suggestion from other shoppers, poring over patterns, and finally leaving laden with large parcels. What a sisterhood there is of crafty people. It is wonderful. Maybe yarns emit a pheromone which is irresistible to certain females? There has to be some sort of scientific explanation!

In fact I have just completed a large blanket made of crocheted squares, which will go to the ABC's Knit In annual event.  The blanket looks quite good. Enough squares remain for half of another rug.  Oh dear.  More and more work, and more wool purchases. All sorts of spare squares sit in boxes in the cupboards, awaiting the chance to be used up in some sort of compatible mix of squares.

Last week I brought out some fine blue mohair I bought in New Zealand in the late 1980s, during a visit there for a couple of political science conferences. For years I have been wondering what I could make with this yarn, and now I have started making a shawl. The pattern is easy, and can be done on automatic pilot. Here's hoping it all works, as mohair is very difficult to unravel. Of course, I don't know how much yarn will be required, as I am adapting a pattern. Sweet mystery of life.

Intermittently I will resume work on the wisteria/jacaranda coloured wool with which I am crocheting a jumper. I am up to the shaping of the second sleeve, and then must join all the pieces and do the edgings.