Mish mash / Moan

5 key things at which this widow needs to get better

It’s Sunday and I’m having a hungover day of reflection…

Cleaning

I go through phases of cleaning.  Nothing is ever totally manky in my home but since wife died, I haven’t had to keep up to her high standards.  This means washing up goes for 2 days and my house is never completely tidy.  Only ever one room at a time. I also cheat and do widow cleaning – it’s basically about spraying everything in sight with Febreeze.  However, when I know I’m likely to have people round, or lure someone back, I seem to be able to clean the whole place in half an hour.  Powerwidow.

Controlling lust

In a way, lust is good because it means that I clean (see above).  However, really, lust is BAD.  It clouds judgement and makes me think I’ve fallen in love with people I’m not actually in love with.  I devastated my wife when I cheated on her.  Simply, I was manic and I reeeeeally wanted to have sex. Lust.  Pure lust. It was the near downfall of our marriage. Now, I’m lusting after a man, which is totally ridiculous, andI have this niggling feeling that if I fuck him, I will lose that friendship and possibly get pregnant by accident. That won’t stop me in the heat of the moment though.  I have no restraint.

Drinking in moderation

Enough said in this post, The Gorgeous Alcoholic.  If the bottle’s there, I simply must finish it.  Last night, that meant five glasses of prosecco too many at the engagement party of my maid of honour. I may have looked composed in my Roland Mouret dress and Gina stilettos, but inside my head was a woozy mish mash. Without the booze, I think I would have probably been discussing the theatre or something a bit more cultured than fucking girls off Tinder. Ugh.  I then proceeded to drunk text one of said girls to tell her I had “excellent lips and tongue” due to my days of playing the flute.  Mega cringe.  She hasn’t responded.

Budgeting

I lie to myself about the extent of my shopping, trying to soothe it that if it’s bought from a discount shop like TK Maxx, or is in the sale, it’s totally ok.  The thing is, I do that every single week and the money mounts up.  Yesterday, I made progress in that I took £120 worth of stuff back.  However, I then promptly spent the money on aforementioned bottle of prosecco and a taxi home because I had stayed out past the last tube.

Accepting others’ perfectionism

When other people are perfectionists, it drives me up the fucking wall.  I want to scream at them,  “YOU HAVE NO SENSE OF FUCKING PERSPECTIVE BECAUSE NOBODY HAS DIED ON YOU. I DON’T CARE IF THE SEMI-COLON IS IN THE WRONG FUCKING PLACE” I did this in my head earlier in the week at a colleague.  I need to accept that other people have had simpler lives and therefore cannot take a step back, survey the situation and then decide what’s important and what’s not. Sigh.

I’m such an eligible widow, seriously.  Come find me ladies.

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