I’m in a curious limbo hour this afternoon. I didn’t really stop at lunchtime, which means technically I could pack up and leave now - except I won’t - because I’m a bit stupid. So here I am, at my desk at work, wondering what to do with myself for the remains of the day.
I’m sure there is some saying or other about any free time being slowly swallowed up with “stuff”. It’s not “Nature abhors avacuum”, but it’s something similar. Anyway - that’s what’s happening this weekend.
This evening will be munched up by my other half stressing over preparations for a dance show on Saturday (she is making all manner of costumes for it), and Saturday will be spent ferrying props, costumes, and kids to and from the dance show. Sunday would have been my own to sit and watch the motor racing, but that now co-incides with the local running race, which W’s Mum is running - no doubt they will get back from that and go out to lunch, and I will be scowled at if I don’t go with them to help control the kids.
Fun fun fun. Not.
While all the mayhem happens, the house slips further and further into a pretty good recreation of a rubbish tip. While everybody else runs here and there throughout the weekend, I will be trying to make meals, wash up, tidy up, and put things away. The house is one of those battles you never really win - and I always marvel at other people who have super tidy houses free of clutter, and money to spend on things, and skiing holidays, and new cars, and a hundred other things. How do they do that?
I earn more than most, my other half works full time, and yet we typically can’t afford to do a third of the things so many other people seem to. We only run one car, we have no expensive hobbies, and yet… urgh… I’m going to shut up before I start ranting insufferably.
The weekend is nearly here. As happy as I am to see it’s arrival, I know that by Monday morning I will be almost relieved to return to work.