The Miracle Week

There is a crack that opens in the universe. It is the few days that occur when you are officially on holiday and no longer required to drag yourself in to work, and the time when the tyres of the airplane leave the tarmac of your departure  airport.

I like to call this time, “The Miracle Week.”

It does not matter if it is a week or a few hours or a couple of days. The point is there is a small gap between you laying the pen down on the surface of your desk at the office and you handing your passport over to the lady at the check-in counter while trying not to look like a mass murderer. 

I left a good wedge of time. I have in fact left 6 days I think to get stuff sorted before I go. Six whole big days. Plenty of time.

So there is the dogs:

– get new tags for the dogs 

– get some extra flea treatment for Archie, because he has been bad lately

– get spare leads and stuff and set up an account at the vet’s

Then there is my parents:

-ensure they have enough prescription medication to last a month and a half

-ensure they have wine and UHT milk and a big bag of potatoes

– ensure they have emergency phone numbers on the wall and all their passwords are OK.

Then the house:

-The roof is still leaking. This is bad, very bad. I went into the roof space today and cold see daylight peering in through two bits  of light. This has been a good winter for farmers and I am delighted for them, but my godamn roof is still leaking. How do I have to pay to make this stop? Can I pay them before I go away?

– The rubbish – Oh the rubbish

I Have so much junk that I need to put an ungrammatical full stop in between the words: So.much.junk.

It would be great to think I would be able to achieve a huge clear out before my holiday but we all now that is not going to happen.  I have stuffed so much of my To Do list into that week, that it would be a miracle if I made it through.

The few days is already so full I know I am not going to make it.

I went out today with my brother and my husband into the city where I live. It is surprising the number of places that we have in Perth to sit and contemplate a holiday from. The CBD used to be a dead zone but now there are quite a few very pleasant spots to have a small beer. We visited a number: The Belgian Beer Cafe (which has been in the city for as long as I have lived here but it was only today I discovered has a large and charming courtyard), Durty Nellies (well why not get in a bit of Irish practice before the real thing), Lafayette (which looks like a gentleman’s club), Print Room and finally The Aviary.

Then we got the train home.

For a few hours it felt like being on holiday already, it felt good.

Roll on, the miracle week.


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