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.