Started this yesterday, but life got in the way. By life, I mean the impending panic associated with approaching holiday departure date. Why is this always such a frenetic time? Why do all the things we have delayed doing for months suddenly have to be done before we go on holiday?
So The Family Weekend became a weekend of eating in separate rooms, rushing our food down between jobs and children hiding from parents, or disappearing off to friend's houses lest they be given another chore. And of course the dog had to be entertained; the grass had to be cut; the etiolated greenhouse confined plants had to be planted out into the garden; friends and family had to be phoned and because carpets are coming later this week, skirting boards, walls, windows and doors all had to be and still have to be painted. So the paintbrush-wielding husband competed with the green-fingered, cook and bottle-washer for the enlistment of serfs to assist with their tasks ... and everyone ended up more tired and more in need of a holiday. And the dog still had to be walked.
And, as if that weren't enough, the busy Sunday got busier and busier ...
... floors had to be polished (which was enormously satisfying until the overnight coat of oil on the wooden floor turned to jelly - too much oil/wood saturated apparently, according to builder - and the electric floor polisher gave up with an final explosion of polishing rings thrown in a noisy tantrum out across the floor! Quite dramatic really, but then had to do it by hand - or shuffle of feet on an oily sheet; great for the leg muscles!)
So The Family Weekend became a weekend of eating in separate rooms, rushing our food down between jobs and children hiding from parents, or disappearing off to friend's houses lest they be given another chore. And of course the dog had to be entertained; the grass had to be cut; the etiolated greenhouse confined plants had to be planted out into the garden; friends and family had to be phoned and because carpets are coming later this week, skirting boards, walls, windows and doors all had to be and still have to be painted. So the paintbrush-wielding husband competed with the green-fingered, cook and bottle-washer for the enlistment of serfs to assist with their tasks ... and everyone ended up more tired and more in need of a holiday. And the dog still had to be walked.
And, as if that weren't enough, the busy Sunday got busier and busier ...
... floors had to be polished (which was enormously satisfying until the overnight coat of oil on the wooden floor turned to jelly - too much oil/wood saturated apparently, according to builder - and the electric floor polisher gave up with an final explosion of polishing rings thrown in a noisy tantrum out across the floor! Quite dramatic really, but then had to do it by hand - or shuffle of feet on an oily sheet; great for the leg muscles!)
... old planters had to be filled
... jelly was made and bottled ... and labelled by youngest
... cookery lesson was given to middle daughter (shortly before she escaped to a friend's)
... this is what she did when she came back, but only after cook, bottle-washer, jelly-bottler, jelly-floorer and oilman had refueled the tractor
... and at the end of the day, it was all too much for the jelly label maker
So, what of today - still have to varnish skirting boards and stain doors before carpets come ; book kennel cough vac for four legged friend who will undoubtedly be delighted to see the vet again; catch up with washing and (mountain of) ironing; submit my story to another publisher (sad face - rejected again); feed children; and remember to feed dog.
Procrastination continues ... right up to holiday departure time probably!
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