Daily Log

I think my eyes are doing the opposite of slamming closed lately. I wake with a buzz every morning. The usual weekend plot dropped into mind; 8:00 to barefoot, sunday to dads, clean up the weeks mess. But now, intermingled in it all, almost after each word, a name chants in the tangled disarray of my sentience.
Getting up, I tied off a few mistakes in the company functions for the week and closed off the financial year.
For the last six months, in the background, my mind has been writing a new screenplay. Finally, it has reached a clarity that can spill out into reality. I have officially assembled part of the score. And given it a preliminary title. It is electrifying to build another new world.
Yesterday, once again, the family filled barefoot to bursting and we managed to pull another weary traveller into our colourful mix. So far I have been the husband of two of my cousins, in the various questions of passes-by. After breakfast I went to see my grandparents. I found them cycling along the road to the shops. It still surprises me that the grandpa can peddle so slowly and still stay upright. I have heard that old english posture is exceptional, however the physics just do not make sense; snails are honking behind him for more speed.
Homeward bound, after a fleeting question that resulted in a telling smile, I hit the supermarket and headed to sunbake. An hour or two later; I headed back to grandma's house grey driving hood and all. After a great hour with them, I dropped in on a mate who is doing the Kokoda challenge again this year, and, went to mum's to find the niece resisting sleep. My speciality is getting the bird to sleep. At one, she knows this, and despises me for my power (on a learning point: she has started to sing along to my baritone hum; it is like a tractor and a humming bird trying to sing a duet, until the humming bird drops in sleep). Sometimes she forgets that she is angry at me for sandman abilities and we play well, but at the moment her defiant will is set against mine... She thinks she can win.
Home again, I was baking within minutes. Afterwards, after another comedy of errors mix up with the sister, I arrived at home to pick up pizza. Two months ago I didn't think I would eat any italian again, and thanks to one chat with my mates-wives-sister I have four restaurants to try and one night to try them. Not being a huge fan of Saturday nights over the past two years, it was great to finally have time to enjoy one. I will never work 60 hour weeks again. Unless it is for myself.