Blue skies, no wind. Fiercely hot Saturday afternoon. Went off to a meeting feeling very stressed and told people to stop texting on their cell phones and talking with their mouths full of ginger nut biscuits. A wave of massive anti-Mary feeling swept the room. Then apologised for my rudeness and was forgiven and everyone went back to mumbling through ginger nuts and texting shopping lists. Some you win, some you lose.
Full moon in Leo, a glorious sight. Last night I went to the bathroom at about 2am and found my small dog Chloe lying on her back on the kitchen floor and waving her paws and hindlegs in the moonlight. She is an off-white and caramel dog and looked just like a magical silver dog in a fairytale swimming in moonlight all by herself. The secret lives of animals enthralls me.
I was up at 2am because my duckling with orange sauce did not agree with me. It was too rich and I felt bilious all night. For years I believed that I had a cast-iron stomach and that my body could survive anything I did to it. Now that I am sober, my body has turned the tables on me. I get heartburn if I drink more than one cup of coffee in the mornings. The acidity in tomatoes disagrees with me. I can’t eat rich or fatty food and I am going to have to cut down on dairy. It is as if my body wants me to keep giving up things now that I have given up alcohol. More bad habits, more defects, more chocolate, more spicy breyanis!
‘Never mind,’ says my housemate. ‘It is nearly Lent and then you can give up things and do it with meaning.’ Very funny.
Every time I think about losing my home I feel bloodyminded and despondent. It will pass, but until it does I am reading Thomas Merton and thinking long and deep thoughts on life on life’s terms, a phrase I have never cared for because I was somebody who took a passive and avoidant attitude towards life and would retire to bed with the sherry bottle when the going got tough.