So… I have a new hobby.

Crafting.

It started innocently enough. A little something here, a little project there. Nothing to worry about. And then somehow it snowballed into me looking at random objects around the house thinking, “Hmm… I could make something out of that.”

This is how it happens, isn’t it? One minute you’re buying a glue gun, the next you’re emotionally invested in a piece of clay.

And because I clearly have no concept of moderation, autumn has also arrived very early in my house. 🍂

Yes, I know it’s only September.

Yes, I know autumn technically isn’t meant to be summoned whenever I feel like it.
But the decorations are out, too late now to care what people may think. Some of them are even homemade because apparently I now have the confidence to look at something in a shop and think, “I could make that.” Whether I actually can is a separate issue, and frankly one future me can deal with.

Still no job, unfortunately. The job hunt continues, although I’m beginning to suspect employers are playing some sort of elaborate game where the prize is absolutely nothing. It’s bloody hard out there at the moment, and I’d be lying if I said it wasn’t getting to me sometimes.

But somehow, amongst the crafting, decorating and repeatedly refreshing job sites, I’m still finding time for my spicy romance books.

Because priorities.

My TBR pile/list/entire bloody ecosystem is still not getting any smaller, though. In fact, I’m fairly certain it’s breeding when I’m not looking. I finish one book and somehow acquire three more. Maths has officially left the building.

And then there’s the bit I don’t really know how to make funny.

This week marks three years since my best friend died.

Three years.

It doesn’t feel real, and somehow it feels like forever.

Fuck do I miss our chats. I miss being able to send a random message, tell you something stupid, have a moan, laugh about something ridiculous, or just know you were there.

And I’m still struggling with the fact that we never got to say goodbye.

That hurts more than I can really put into words.

There are so many things I wish I could have said. So many conversations I wish we’d had. So many stupid little moments I’d happily have back just to hear from you again.

Grief is weird. You can be laughing at something one minute and then suddenly it catches you in the chest the next. You carry on doing normal things — making decorations, reading books, applying for jobs, deciding that September is apparently autumn in your living room — while underneath it all there’s this enormous hole where someone used to be.

So I’m carrying on.

Crafting questionable things. Decorating far too early. Reading books that would make my eyebrows leave the room. Applying for jobs while trying not to lose the will to live.

And also just missing my best friend.

Life is messy at the moment. Some days are funny. Some are shit. Some are both within the space of ten minutes.

I suppose that’s life, really.

For now, I’m just taking it one day, one craft project, one book and one slightly-too-early autumn decoration at a time. 🍂❤️