My thoughts are muddled. I have inspiration for writing which is quickly forgotten, like the dreams I have on waking; so vivid at the time and then just pop out of existence. I have used prompts from the linkup blogs I do, and news of the business to muddle my way along these past couple of months. And now I’ve used the word ‘muddle(d)’ twice.
There is a lot that is confusing. I walk into a supermarket and I am greeted. I walk out and the same person there who, at the very least, smiles back at me. Places like these with their machine-only checkout options and shelf-stacking staff, avoiding your gaze, with their new personal touch – albeit accidental – is heartwarming in its confusion. To me, it looks like there always were these people who wanted to say hello but have only now been ‘forced’ into it, and thereby have the permission. A guy working at the pub was more than keen to talk to us about new procedures to keep us all safe; he was missing in person interaction as much as anyone.
At a time when isolation is being talked about even more than before – and even then I felt it was getting some pretty good coverage – we seem to have been forced to have some. My Dad’s road have a WhatsApp group and weekly Friday night (distanced) gatherings. While I have been avoiding being too finely tuned into the muddled changes (my life being isolated as it is anyway living on a narrowboat and migraine disease meaning interactions are problematic), it feels that they are swirling around me nonetheless.
With the work being completed on the boat, Tom’s been trying to keep me updated with what is happening and why. Mostly, I find it hard to imagine the details coming to life and my role to turn up and take photos of the progress has been one I am very suited to. He’s still trying to explain how the sheet will fit over the new part exactly and I still say ‘I’m sure it will be great…!’.
It’s difficult as I feel pretty dazed most of the time so I try not to let it confuse me and, when it comes to details on the boat, I know Tom’s thought about all the details so I don’t have to.
Of course, having lived at my mother-out-laws for almost four months is likely to make me feel muddled (see why here). And now, finding what needs to be moved back on and where it will all go…we have said so many times ‘that can go in the front now we have all this space!’ and now I am certain than all these things cannot possibly fit in just an extra 10ft. Something else to figure out like a blurry Moet jigsaw puzzle; once it comes together I’m sure the swirling mess will be beautiful!