Happy Birthday to me.

I wanted to do something different today. I usually celebrate my birthday (even though I’m in my mid fifties) so this year I decided to more or less ignore it. I’m not sure it worked as I ended up feeling pretty low. I only got 5 cards, and nothing from my mother for the first time ever.
I couldn’t face working on the book so I sent out a few fillers to various magazines. The idea begin that if any of them win me any cash, I can blow it on some decent clothes. After that I finished shuffling the furniture about in my room, then sorted out my clothes and put them into my lovely new built in wardrobe/art cupboard. It does look good, even though the framework needs painting (I’ve no idea when I’ll get round to doing that).
The day seemed to be dragging. Most of Wimbledon was rained off so I couldn’t even watch that. In the end I decided to go to Tescos. I’d received a £20 gift card from them as a result of a complaint I’d made so decided to blow it on some decent food (and some extra clothes hangers).
At 3.45 p.m. I called the care home and asked to speak to Mum. They said it wouldn’t upset her as she was already a bit upset as Denis had just been to see her. She’s completely gone. Didn’t even seem to know she wasn’t at home. The only person who was upset was me.
I think I might call her once a month. She won’t know when I’ve called or how often, but it might help me to feel better.
After the call, I went into the garden and picked 2 bunches of flowers. They really do cheer the place up.
Tomorrow is another day. It’s the penultimate Heydays, next week is performance day which I might or might not attend. That will leave Wednesdays empty until September. I’m going to have to start looking for something else to do. Right now, I don’t have a purpose, a reason to live, and that can’t be a good thing.