Hug

September 13th

Back home, monday morning  get up, cook porridge, make school lunch, say “Hurry up Darling” a few times, bundle F into the car, drop him at the bus stop.

Then face the Gardener. 

The Gardener and I had a fight on Friday afternoon. I had hoped he and his helpers would be gone by the time I got home because I felt too tired to talk and certainly too tired to make descisions about where certain rocks should go etc. it could all wait till Monday. 

But his ute  was still here as we pulled up in the car. Hi...  And I noticed they’d marked out a new garden bed a different shape and size from what I thought we’d agreed on. Somehow this easy-to-fix problem escalated into a ridiculous exchange of accusations and counter-accuations about who didn’t communicate properly and who should have been here to discuss it, and various protestations about our respective decency, integrity etc. He left in a huff. Aaaaargh!

All of which left me feeling so cranky and shaky and mad with him that I couldn’t  think straight. So I  rang up poor old D in Melbourne and ended up being cranky to him about it, like it’s all his fault somehow, for not being here. After I hung up I felt  like I was a really awful person. 

Then F said, “ I feel sorry for Dad. He’s down in Melbourne, cold and a bit sick and you call up and dump all your problems on him”

I called back, apologised, was forgiven etc. But it took quite a few hours for the gutted/furious/shaky feeling to subside. Then F & I  took off for our weekend at the beach.

I didn’t hear the Gardener arrive this morn, but I saw him out of the kitchen window over the sink, as I washed the porridge saucepan. He was stomping about and frowning heavily at the flagstones laid out on the ground. Out I go. ‘Hi, how was your weekend?’ I ask, attempting breeziness. 

“I felt bad about Friday afternoon” he says. “Me too”, I say, “But I’m over it now, let’s just move on” No, he wants to talk some more about it. I’m thinking how the hell have I ended up having this intense exchange I don't want  with this guy who I am paying to do the paving, like we’re in some personal growth workshop or something. I guess both of us have been in plenty of those, which is perhaps why I eventually hear myself saying, “Lets just  have a hug”. So we  hug and that seems to fix things, so he can get on with the paving. And I can go back inside and do the tax stuff I’ve been avoiding for weeks. 

..and figure out how to upload a photo