Oh Saturday, Saturday, where for art thou Saturday?
I’m not entirely sure where today went. If you’ve seen it, please let it know I’m looking for it - tell it to at least give me a call, ok?
I had been planning on cracking on with some freelance work, but somehow got dragged into a round of spring-cleaning across three different computers - removing old software, cleaning registries, creating new profiles, replacing virus killers, pruning MP3 collections, and otherwise putting everything back just as it had been - only faster and more efficient than before.
Looking after computers is a thankless task. I’ve lost count of the number of people who have bought a PC (or Mac) off-the-shelf, and a year later are complaining that it has slowed down, takes ages to start, and so on. No, it’s still exactly the same machine you bought - only you have done nothing to maintain it.
If you’ve not already slumped to the floor following an attack of narcalepsy after the riveting beginning to this post, I guess I should change subjects.
(two minutes pass after the phone rings and I race through the house attempting to locate one of the handsets - a task that isn’t always as easy as it sounds)
W just called from the pub - her brother is staying over and she’s gone out for a drink. I have written instructions here detailing an order for the Indian restaurant just down the road from the pub - I call it in, and then call them back with the time estimate.
(another minute passes while I call the restaurant, and get talked into buying all manner of sundries to go with the main dishes)
I’m starving now. The knowledge that the food is ordered, but not here yet has just reminded me that I’ve not really eaten much today. One cheese toasty at lunchtime, and half our youngest’s dinner.
She sat down for dinner earlier with her sisters, looked at her dinner in thedisdainfulway she seems to have perfected just recently, and made mention of a tummy ache. I didn’t believe her, and told her so.
A minute or so later she quietly began crying, and I of course felt like the worst villain in the world… I guess I’ll put this one down to the little girl who cried wolf once too many times. We’ve all been there (well, those of us who are parents have). I guess it’s a good reminder to prospective parents who might read this; while you might look at seasoned (read:battle hardened) parents and wonder how they manage - how they do it - let me reassure you that we mess up all the time. We just don’t dwell on it.
I had anticipated a troubled night ahead, with many trips up and down the stairs, but a couple of hours in, she’s snoring like a traction engine. Fingers crossed.