A very strange day

There are days where you wade through; like swimming through a super thick milkshake. It’s not unpleasant but it also doesn’t feel entirely normal. Today has been one of those days.

Although my sleep is much better I am still waking with a gasp and a start several times a night and I’ve started dreaming again. Last night, I had a recurring dream of going into charity shops. My parents’ belongings were in each one I went into (entirely possible) and the last two were set out as galleries of my Mum’s art. Each time I did a double take before someone told me how lucky they were to have been gifted a famous artist’s work. This dream would have made my mum laugh and in my dream I snorted with laughter too. The charity shop workers were very offended and told me how they’d sold a piece only an hour ago for £92.38.

“Ninety two pounds and thirty eight pence? Who pays that for a print of an old couple dancing?” the dream version of me asked before waking up with a gasp.

After that I decided to give up on the idea of any more sleep and the dog told me how much he hated me for waking him up at 5am to do some yoga. He often joins me for a quick extended dog pose (which he much prefers to downward facing dog) but this morning he just looked at me through squinted eyes and rushed upstairs to find a quiet place for a little more sleep. On my 77th consecutive day of yoga practice serenity is my middle name and I’m so blissed out I’m not sure what’s real anymore. 

It was always going to be an interesting day. Working in a school on an inspection day is tense. Even in a school that is confident, the staff will feel a pressure. All it takes is a windy day, a flake of snow or a child who decides that their best friend has lied and all of a sudden kids are running down corridors shouting, “Liars go to Hell.” 

Luckily, none of those things happened. Instead, everyone was happy, jolly and nice to each other. The stars aligned. The staffroom table heaved with cakes. And the phantom yarn bomber was out in full force.

It’s nice to find a knitted heart on your desk. It’s pretty cool to know that someone thinks I’m amazing. I’d like to thank that person. They made me smile, even though I think they’re probably wrong. 

I checked my e-mails. There was one from the British Heart Foundation telling me that they have sold some of my parents stuff and checking that they can still claim the gift aid. The value of the donation? £92.38. Spooky.

Then, I read this one.

As I said, it’s a very strange day.