Stop worrying

The "Quote of the Day" widget on my Google homepage regularly gives me a smile. Occasionally a laugh. All too rarely it delivers something so appropriate, so timely, all I can do is listen to the sound of my jaw dropping while I sit immobilised at the keyboard.

Whoever ceases to be a student has never been a student.
-George Iles

So I'll stop worrying that I'm 53 years old and I still live in a house where half the rooms (including our bedroom) have no carpet. Where half-completed construction projects shed their dust (it's a SIN!) over the entire house. Where my tools litter the study floor alongside the disassembled pieces of that rim latch I was saving for when I repair the door on the spare room. Where the attic is stuffed with things of almost no perceptible value, which I can't bring myself to chuck out in case someone will offer me a few measly quid for them on eBay.

Assuming I ever got around to listing them there.

It used to scare me - a little - how much this house resembles the digs I had as a student. It's even in the same road (albeit the nicer end, I tell myself). But, you know, it's a home. I like it. Love it, actually. And it does get better, slowly. Or "at my own pace" as I prefer to put it.

It's a place where there's always time for a laugh, or a cup of tea. Time for a leisurely breakfast, a game of Buzz, or a movie. And where I never need to feel pressured to DO anything, or guilty that I haven't.

Yeah. In the words of a popular icon from my youth: "What, me worry?"