Little bits of home are creeping in and I'm not sure how to deal with them. Bush fires nearby to our farm, a springtime glut of eggs to find customers for, the thought of my sewing machine and some pretty fabrics and laces and the perfect easy breezy sundress they could become.
Little bits of so many conversations that end up talking about how we'll do things differently when we go home.
The fact that we cannot seem to leave Broome. We'll have been here a month this Thursday. Until yesterday I thought it was because it is so perfect here, the beaches, the friends, the relaxed lifestyle... Yesterday it was suggested to me that maybe we are struggling with the fact that until now we have been heading North and West. Broome and the far north west coast were always the destination we were most looking forward to. So when we start to head south from here it kinda means we are on our way home. Even though we have months of travel left, we are heading south and that is a little sad.
I haven't got enough yarn with me to get stuck into a long term project and there is no wool shop for miles around. I am crocheting little flowers for all the girls' friends to wear in their hair, but they are not doing the trick. I need to knit long rows and tune out and let my fingers do the work.
Miss Pepper woke me up three times in the night crying hysterically about nothing at all and needing to be cuddled back to sleep.
I have no space. There is always someone talking to me, wanting something from me, hassling me. Yep, I know you are thinking 'der, what did you expect in a caravan??' But most of the time it's ok. Most of the time I love this constant family time. But today it's irritating the crap out of me. The sound of Miss Pepper watching Annie on the ipad, the sound of a million Muuuuuuuuuums!!!! The thought of the pile of wet towels and the sandy clothes and the ants in the honey...
I know I probably shouldn't publish this. 99 per cent of my days are wonderful and this crap afternoon should be endured and forgotten but without my knitting and my sewing machine, blogging is the next best coping mechanism I know. I write it all out, I publish it, it helps me process it and get rid of it.
So feel free to ignore this post if you like. Or read it and take from it that life on the road is mostly wonderful but occasionally irritating. You choose.
As for me, I'm going to pour myself a glass of vodka and old fashioned lemonade, chuck in a few ice cubes and go and sit outside and knead the pizza dough. Until someone needs me. Doesn't sound all that bad really does it? What on earth am I complaining about then??