TREADING WATER

Going mad. Too little progress being made, on all fronts. Plus days get shorter as you get older. And as Buddha says, although I don't often quite from him, in fact never have before: 

"The trouble is, you think you have time."

I am starting to feel as though there's one of DK's metronomes ticking, all day long. Den wants me to go take a T M  course. Trancendental Meditation. He meditates every day, or tries to. It must be outstandingly beneficial, T M, I think Holland or maybe it's Denmark where they cut your medical bills by a third or even a half if you do T M. So it undoubtedly has something going for it. My problem is when Den took his course, years ago back in London, they told him to bring a small piece of white cloth and a flower to his first session. There is no way in hell I could do this with a straight face. Which means I am destined no doubt to die of a heart attack brought on by stress. I reckon I have about two days, at the rate my pulse is going.

And it turns out I did not after all have my final phone conversation with Peg.

ME: "Hi Mother. [PAUSE] It's me." The very fact I have to add "it's me" sets me off. Who does she think is calling her 'mother'? She has only one child, it's not like there's five of us.

PEG: "Oh. Hi dear. I've had NO SLEEP,  NONE! I'm SO TIRED. [VOICE BREAKS] I need a DOG! I need something to cuddle!"

ME: "Did Cousin Ruth arrive from California? Is is fun seeing her?"

PEG: "We had curried chicken salad."

ME: "Good. I was just making sure you give Terri a couple of nights off. You don't need anyone staying over if Ruth is there."

PEG: "Terri's doing my Blue Books for me!"

ME: "Good idea. But not at night. She needs a break. And we need to save money, Mama. Two nights of no Terri, that's a hundred dollars you save."

PEG: "How are you? Are you getting enough sleep?"

ME:  "Yes. I just wanted you to know I talked to Bonnie and we told Terri she could have the night off tonight. You have Ruth there."

PEG: "Honey, don't worry about ME! AT ALL! I am fine, just fine. I'm sleeping well and--"

ME: "I thought you just said you were getting no sleep and were exhausted."

PEG: [PAUSE] "That was the night BEFORE last. Last night I slept wonderfully!"

That conversation of an hour ago is the least of it. I still need to get a builder for the new "Hytte" (Little Peg House) at the bottom of the garden, but still no sign of planning permission from Suffolk Council. I need to get a PR firm that I like and trust on board to promote Den's memoirs, I need to find someone to help me turn them into an eBook without slitting my wrists because the technology is bloody defeating me, I need to know if my cousin who is supposed to be designing the cover image has died because I can't think of any other reason he hasn't been in touch and the launch date is LOOMING LARGE, I need the painters who are doing the outside trim to arrive when they say they will, so far no success here, I need someone to help me design new cupboards in the living room because although this is my field I feel every artistic bone in my body has been sat on by a couple of steamrollers, I need to figure out when I'm getting on a plane to Becket again, why the dog keeps throwing up, and where my brand new $$$ Clinique face illuminator, shade #1 (Light, for winter use) has gone, I brought it back from the States, it was ON my dressing table last week and I can only think it rolled off into the wastebasket.

Plus one of my son's best friends has gone into rehab in Scotland, the hope being he will kick his newly-acquired heroin habit. I had the mother on the phone for over an hour.

Tomorrow will be better. I keep telling myself. And I have just gone through the huge garbage bin outside of disgustin recycled stuff looking for that Clinique. No fucking sign. But, as I said, tomorrow will be better.