Of course it’s “spilt milk” but I am fine at the mum type kitchen things, it’s the firewood that can bring me undone. It’s all that Mr fix-it stuff that my Mr Fix-it used to do, sure sometimes nagging was involved, but he did it. So now, with no Mr Fix-it and doggone it no one to nag (kids don’t count they seem to be able to block you out), I can just look at it, and be cold, or take a deep breath and get the heck on with it.
Wielding an axe overhead with such precision and accuracy I chopped those suckers into firewood that could burn itself…anyone believe me??? Anyone? Well it’s chopped, no actual injuries to speak of, and pretty it isn’t. But it fits in the fire place and it will burn. Most importantly though I didn’t actually cry. Nearly, but no tears, not a one. Maybe a little “what the hell happened to my life that took my wood chopper away?” type thought, but I did it.
This is new territory for sure, not quite sure what to call it, but its progress.
I don’t make any wild assumptions that I won’t succumb to fits of inadequacy in the future, but today I am OK. Today is all I have.
Decisions need to be made, things need to be fixed and like it or not life goes on, partner or not! So for today I will man up and do what needs to be done. Femininity intact, I will just have to do it my way.
But I won’t cry over the firewood.