I
awoke on New Year’s Day. I was now in 2012 and was still enjoying my break over
the Christmas period. It was the first Christmas I had to do on the cheap. I
couldn’t afford anymore to have lavish celebrations, throwing money about as if
it was just some cheap paper confetti. I must say I enjoyed it just as much.
When you take out the commercialisation of this festive period you are left
with the spiritual side, and the true meaning of Christmas.
I
spent Christmas day with my family at my mother-in-laws, minus my father-in-law
who had passed away two years previously. Although not the same without his
presence there was a positive mood during the meal.
As
I lay in bed with a cup of tea on this new day in a new year, my head was
relative sober compared to previous years.
I
had resolved to make progress during 2012 in my quest to get published, and
this was the only promise I had made to myself as the clock chimed towards
midnight and the New Year. I hadn’t even bothered with the usual promises you
make when the final chime rings out, and everyone starts to celebrate. No
promises to lose some weight, or cut back on the booze (I had no choice in this
as I couldn’t afford heavy drinking seasons,) or whatever promises you make and
never keep.
No,
just this time I made the one promise, and I was determined to keep to it.
For
the present there was nothing more I could do with my manuscript. As the title
of my blog states, always-hanging-around, I could do nothing until I heard back
from the various agents I had approached, and from the competitions I had
entered. I would just have to hang around and keep myself busy
January
and February 2012 were going to be important months for me. By the end of this
period I would either be on the first rung on the ladder to publishing success,
or in a deep pit of disappointment and rejection.
As
I finished my tea and muttered to myself on ways to keep busy over the next six
to eight weeks, a smile came across my wife’s face.
“I
know just the thing you can do!”
I
hesitated before asking her what she had on her mind.
“Decorating,”
she continued, “all the doors inside the house need glossing.”
My
heart sank; I’m not a great lover of decorating. I wish I had the money to pay
someone else to do it, but as the whole family had had to make cut backs to
support me on my dream I had no choice.
“Yes
darling what a good idea,” I replied grudgingly.
We
spent the last days of the New Year break trudging around D.I.Y stores looking
at gloss paint.
This
is one past time I detest even more that decorating, but I had no choice, I was
no longer the main bread winner in the house, I was no longer the Alfa male, I
was no longer the boss. I had to do what the new boss in the house wanted to
do.
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