“Real people are stereotypes.
Well, wrenching a person out of their environment is on a par with playing Russian Roulette – you can have no idea which previously submerged entity in the persona will surface and leer at you.”
(There are ants in my sugar / Annica Foxcroft)
I landed up in hospital again, for a week, during which time I suffered a few nasty falls. One was tumbling from my bed and suffering concussion and another left me with a broken left pinkie and very unattractively bruised and scraped knees. (I have a vague reollection of clever person saying something about pride coming before a fall; but I’ll try not to ponder too much on that one …) I’m glad to be in the hands of a very good psychiatrist and he seems to have me on the right medication to help me survive through this torrid period.
Whilst I was away, my builder pulled out all the stops and I was able to move into my new home. I’d expected to find that the damp had not been cured in my bedroom, so I was very pleased to finally occupy my new digs.
And my little entertainment area, leading to my passage and kitchen.
I have no idea “which entity in the persona” will resurface, but for now I have no clue and all this newfound freedom has me at quite a loss for what to do with myself. I think I will begin knitting a cardigan for Lulubelle, with the weather rapidly changing.
And I believe I’ll have chocolate cake and custard for supper. Just let anyone try to stop me …