bouquets for a dingbat
Making me feel better: my 81-year-old mother and my husband, heading off 35km to the next closest town to buy a milkshake a couple of weeks ago
Yesterday I made a huge, totally unprofessional mistake. Thankfully it's been a long time since I proved so conclusively that the fact that a head is connected to a neck does not mean that any coherent messages are getting through.
It was the end of a horrible day, filled with frustrations and clients who don't pay on time. The only thing I can say for the mistake, was that I also proved that my commitment to always doing a job as well as possible extends into all my endeavours. I didn't send an email with premature information to a couple of close friends. I sent it to close to 100 highly influential journalists. How's that for a screw up of note?
One of the things that I learned through the debacle was that my family is totally, completely loyal to me. I had no idea, and the realisation is humbling, scary and certainly makes me feel a whole lot better.
One of the things we did during April: Greg's birthday breakfast in Paddagang in Tulbagh. Yes, we went on the bike
My husband, my mother and my son Simon all had the same reaction (Ben's still in pirate-infested waters in the Seychelles, or he may have had the same response). They immediately assumed that it was someone else's fault, that I must have been given the wrong information. This morning when I spoke to my mom, I was still trying to persuade her that the mistake was something that I had to take full responsibility for.
Isn't that just amazing? I'm sitting at my desk, wrapped in a blanket, and with a hot water bottle and warm slippers, but what's really keeping me warm today is the feeling of being loved. It's a great place to be.
One of my favourite feel better spaces: our bathroom in the evening, lit with candles. There's bubblebath too, and a bath so deep and long I can float in it.