on which my thoughts jump from one thing to another to end up on a theory that maybe needs to be given long and serious serious thought.
As I am cleaning my Bamboo floor which I supervised the installation of and know that a small space needs to be left available behind the floor boarding all around allowing the wood to react to temperature and humidity. It contracts and expands. If no space left near walls, it will allow the floor planks to open up where they join. I reach an area where a gap has developed between the planks and my thoughts jump to the spot on my right hand thumb where at the top on each side of the short fingernail the dry skin has popped open. This reminds me that I need to wear gloves as soon as I start using the heater in the car to prevent this from happening. My thumb reacts to warm air being blown at it as my hand is busy steering.
Then, as I wonder if there is a word to name this area of my thumb and play with the idea of asking one of my daughters, I think that I should not. They have no time nor patience for such silly questions of their mother.
From there my thoughts wonder to the question of what is this thing of 'mothers and daughters'? Why, after the mother is no longer with us, and I know that it applies to many of us, does one feel guilty of not having shown more patience, more devotion, more gratefulness, more compassion, more love. I am saying more because we all have given, some more some less. Did our mothers display love, self-sufficiency, tolerance and strength in order to give us peace of mind?
If so, it does not seem to work. Not with me anyway.
Actually, I was going to say that I will stop posting and commenting for a while because it takes more time for me to do so than I can afford to use up for that purpose.
Will I be able to overcome this much enjoyable addiction?