My Mum arrives this afternoon, which really means the last thing I should be doing is sitting here trying to write. Which naturally just makes me want to write even more. There are still floors to mop, washing to fold and put away, beds to make, teenagers to convince to give up their bedroom for a bit. You know all the usual stuff.
Before I had the brilliant idea to write I had the even more ingenious idea to start a little blanket for the bird. Because, well, it is cold here and surely she must be feeling it as much as us. The fact that she keeps trying to crawl inside socks the girls so kindly leave laying all over the place is possibly testament to that.
Unfortunately though I when I walked away from my ball of wool to see to whatever child was having a problem five minutes ago the bird saw it as a prime opportunity to run off with my ball of wall. She deftly managed to drag it under the couch before I returned. I didn’t have the heart to pull it away from her.
After three months of not being on the road I guess life is well and truly settled into a new normality. I am still not exactly how much I like it. Not necessarily because we are here, I think I would feel the same regardless of where we are. It is just the whole being stopped thing that I am not a fan of.
Oh so much sighing.
I have just discovered that my coffee cup is empty.
Oh the tragedy!!!
In my current apathetic state of mind I feel completely unable to do anything about it as well. I may also have made a promise to myself that I the moment I leave the comfort and safety of my arm chair I will actually do something productive. A promise I really don’t want to break.
Back to sighing.