No, not a failsafe recipe for sweet, golden indulgence but rather a euphemism for a general feeling of being out of kilter, Do you know those days tainted with discontent, discombobulation and the thoughts of being a blunt needle on a record player?

My ceaseless quest for harmony is no secret but the gathering storm beats a loud and strident rhythm.

This “don’t tell” policy with DH’s mother and her dementia is ready to explode – the catalyst is on the horizon. Envisage primer cord and a flame thrower!

Work is beginning to resemble a teepee being attacked by wood rot from the inside out. Although perhaps a diseased body is a more appropriate analogy where the core is rotten and affecting the whole system. I have no answers for the staff that are looking for guidance.

My intent for this diatribe is not for it to translate as a pity party or a self-indulgent quest for acknowledgement. Scripting malcontent is cathartic – I’m still at odds though to find a solution or a clear path to follow!

In a nutshell, even the most ordinary of lives is littered with an infinite number of potholes.

8 thoughts on “Fudge

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