My Twitter swarm and Facebook groupies will know that a few weeks ago I had a pretty serious operation on my foot which reduced my gadding about ability to minus 20. No more supermarket shopping, housework, gardening for a few weeks. I was also relieved of all cat-nurturing duties except for hugging and stroking.
The foot has improved and I’m now back on ‘light duties’ so I got up this morning early to feed the cat. And found a pile of sick. Lovely. I sighed but pushed away the thought of turning round, slinking out and closing the door behind me. I grabbed some kitchen roll and started clearing up. The poor cat is diabetic and has a delicate stomach, so I can’t shout “slipper factory” at him, especially when he looks at me with enormous green eyes.
Other delightful things crossed my mind as I wiped and mopped: cleaning the oven, recovering the contents of a burst rubbish bag, cleaning babies, breaking it to an acquaintance their book is a pile of poo, traipsing through your own masterwork for the zillionth time to root out lurking superfluous adverbs or autonomous body parts…
How to cope with these less delightful parts of life?
You have to get a grip.
Nobody likes these things. And even less, doing them. But anticipating them is far worse than dealing them. I suggest you plunge in with both hands and get on with them (Not the cat sick, obviously; that’s what Marigolds are for).
Apart from reluctantly, how do you tackle deeply yucky tasks?