At times some memory comes to mind, from long ago and far away when I was doing something utterly different from what I’m doing now. In the case of what triggered this entry, a scene from my time in Aarhus when I was cleaning old folks’ homes, and sometimes those of young people with some disability or some such. I recall this particular man, who was an eager talker and had a great lighted glass cabinet for his liquers. He spoke about having fainted at a trip to the baker shop, he was obviously a man who suffered from many anxieties. I wonder what became of him – he may have been much helped by the early 90’s and their financial and political surplus in this country, wouldn’t be the case today. Anyways, that’s what I get from having been young and impressionable, these things that stayed with me pops up. And it’s probably my mind keeping house, as I doubt I’ll ever see them again. I read somewhere that old people are slow because their heads are filled up – makes sense. So I’m glad these things rid themselves, to make room for more interesting stuff.
Stupid quarrels with the missus. I fixed the ADSL line that I accidentally cut whilst painting the living room, and put it in a nice contained box so it’s all secure. But still she wants to call an electrician, to which avail I’m unsure. It’s clear signs she doesn’t trust me when I say it’s safe, and the notion that she would think that I, out of ignorance, would do harm to my children, is a stab in my back. I do love her but when she acts up like this, it’s truly horrible. History has shown how of the two of us, I’m usually the one who’s got his shit covered, so it feels real crappy to be attacked like this.