Little Things

I have been struggling over the past week. Overwhelmed, by the magnitude of HD and it's trail of problems. Yet, oddly perhaps, in the middle of this drama, I have had inordinate joy from small pleasures. I sat with Sweet-Pea yesterday afternoon, wall-papering the dolls house. We pasted walls and trimmed edges, cooing over William Morris prints, whilst sitting among the debris of our own house. But it's alright, because the doll's house is elegant and tidy.
In a corner of my bedroom, sits a desk. When I wake in the morning, dreading the day ahead, I look at it's battered edges. It sits there; solid, old, with it's pretty carved legs, waiting for me. And I remember why I am inherently a lark; who revels in the hiatus of early mornings. I love the silence, that sense of existing in pure nothingness, before it's filled with the needs of others. A good book, hidden stores of chocolate and my lovely desk. Little things to blot out the big things.