Vague recollection tells me the dream I was having shortly before the radio alarm clock roused me this morning was a good one - it’s just a pity that I can’t remember what it was about. I do recall being torn from it by the voices of the local radio station. Those voices mean it’s 7am.
A little person had wandered in at some point previously, having trouble doing her top button up. Quite how she manages to “power up” so quickly on a morning is a mystery, but should probably be enjoyed; as she gets older she will no doubt be afflicted like the rest of us.
After a shower and a shave I wandered into the kitchen to find W already making lunches (and an unholy mess). I know better than to get in her way, so studiously avoided the area until a row of lunchboxes sat alongside each other on the cooker. If mine is not to do, mine is to wash up, and clear away. I find your life lasts longer that way, and you don’t get as much earache.
The clock ticked towards “being late for work”, and our eldest stood in the lounge in tears. She claimed a bad stomach, but we suspected an oscar winning method acting performance. We gave her the benefit of the doubt, and I left for work, only to return an hour later with my laptop. Three miles each way in driving rain on my mountain bike. By the time I got home, I was the happiest person I know. Not.
While I toiled on an insurmountable cliff-face of code, Miss Twelve sat in the lounge watching cartoons. All day. I can’t really complain; I remember doing it when I was young too. After watching her eat dinner this evening, I quietly murmured “that was a day’s grace, wasn’t it…”, as W and I passed each other in the kitchen.
Working at home went surprisingly well. It’s amazing how much you can get done when you’re sat on your own, with no distractions other than an old iMac (begging to be played with), and an Ubuntu desktop in the other room that your Dad gave you (also begging to be played with). Ok - I’ll admit it… I played with them a little bit.
Roll on tomorrow.