*Slaps self in face*
Sorry about that, phew! I'm fine now. Just had to pull myself together, as I had temporarily gone a little bit mad, on account of being buried under piles of junk and rubbish and dust bunnies all day. Isn't it a strange thing that we become blinded to just how much squalor we are living in? Up until this afternoon I'd been thinking that my house was pretty messy, but that I'd get rid of some toys and do some dusting and it'd be alright in a couple of days.
Oh no.
It's much worse.
I'm sure I'm not the first person to move some bits of offending clutter, only to discover that it was put there in the first place to hide the bigger pile of clutter that got shoved behind the couch/under the bed/in the corner of the room. *Sigh* Methinks it is going to take me rather longer than I estimated to sort out this dump of a house. What it could really do with is a fresh coat of paint in every room - but I just couldn't be bothered right now! I just wish we'd never bought anything, at all, ever. I wish we'd kept the house empty, so that all I would ever have to do is hoover and polish. I've been drowning in the clutter today. But at least I've made a start, and like most horrible tasks that we don't like to face, the situation always gets worse before it gets better - doesn't it? Doesn't it??
Anyway - I'm switching off from the decluttering now. I don't do anything resembling housework in the evenings. Once the kids have gone to bed it's my time, and I do whatever I want with it. I always intend to work on my writing. I usually put the telly and computer on and waste the evening dividing my attention between the two. Useless! But I don't feel guilty relaxing in the evenings anymore because I'm very lucky to have three full mornings a week to do the writing.
This evening I'm relaxing because I've got Matthew with me. He's been poorly again today, and is just cooling down from a fever. Calpol is marvellous stuff. He had a sleep at tea time and is wide AWAKE now. When he gets drowsy again he's going back to his own bed. He's only teething though, just getting his last four baby teeth - they're killers. I thought he had mumps before, and then remembered that I'd thought that when Thomas got his. Big puffy red cheeks, high temperature, swollen tongue!
Oh, hang on ...
We interrupt this blogcast for a special announcement:
Could Linda please go to the boys' bedroom and clean up the lake of sick that has just burst forth from James?!
Right, done that. Looks like I won't be having a writing morning tomorrow afterall! James cannot go to playschool in the morning because he has just done the most enormous quantity of projectile spew I have ever seen!!! I had to phone Kev to come home from his pub quiz, because we have no washing machine - I've sent him to his mum's with a pile of spew-covered towels, pyjamas and bedsheets :D When I phone Hoover tomorrow to tell them I've had quite enough of them faffing about with my replacement washing machine, I will have some new ammunition!
Ah well. It's now well past my bedtime, but I don't think I'll get much sleep tonight as I'll be listening out in my sleep for a pained cry from Matthew, and a weak little bleat from James indicating that he is about to bring up the last little bit of his tea!
I apologise for the grossness of this post, about squalor, sick and such. But if I were you I would be thankful that I've no photos of the day to show you :D I will now promise not to blog about any more of my children's illnesses!
G'night :)
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