Such style

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I have been blessed with the gift of avoiding things I do not want to do.
Why is it a gift? Because it is a rare area of my life where I feel little guilt by contrast to the waves, swathes and layers of guilt that blanket other parts of my reality.
Plus there is the joy, as an employer, of asking someone else to do it for you. Charmed, I am sure.

I am good, in as much as I do not take advantage. I do not ask people working with me to collect my children or do my laundry, but dusting, hoovering and other delights I can delegate and do.

There are other areas of my life where I experience cowardice on a baroque scale. Window dressing is one, I hate to do it alone, another is sorting out the rails. I shirk, shy and cower at the thought. Why? I have absolutely no idea at all. I can admit to being rather stunned by my lack of willingness to tackle both the windows or the rails.

Up to now I have done the windows on a weekly basis, girded my loins, taken a deep breath and dived in. Each time has been a resounding success, really it has. I have taken responsibility for myself and my business and triumphed.

But laying out the clothes on the rails. Argh!! In the most childish, mouse-tortured way possible I put my hands to my face and hide whilst I scream, I hate it. I have a woman who works with me and she does an amazing job. She loves doing it, takes all day and just transforms everything. I look at what she can do and feel way down on the scale of rail dressing skills. So I dis-empower myself, waiting for the lovely Sam to come back and rescue me yet again.

But recently my patience wore thin. The rails looked messy, bundled up, nothing could be seen and it was not singing arias in the way I feel it can, should or ought to. Philip came to my rescue. He actually asked if he could change the whole thing around. Oh, Joy! I quietly swooned inside at the thought of just so much rescuing. Phew, Hurrah, Oh my God yes! and various other displays of delight escaped from my lips. I left him to it and had a day off.

Of course, I came in today and….. (I know he will read this) I hated it. But I loved him for it because it was done out of the best kind of love and friendship, it was good, it was great, but not how I wanted it. I dragged my husband upstairs and together we changed it all around, completely and utterly. It was exhilarating, fun, challenging and looks fab. How brave am I, courtesy of some one else?

Now I am about to call the tax office. Is there no end to the challenges one has to take on as a grown up?