You know the Wallace and Grommit film where they were speeding along in a model train and Grommit was laying track just before they went over it? It's like that at the moment and it's not the best use of time. For example, this morning I had to take three sheets of information to each of 40 people, plus a different three to two others. I also had to do address labels, because there would only be about 2/3 of the people at the lunch (I'm aware that it couldn't be exactly 2/3) so I need to know who to post the others.
Now, a sensible woman would have done it a few days ago so that I could get the sheets photocopied. I am sensible, but I'm busy, so I had to print them out myself. My having-been-turned-upside-down-and-shaken printer is working but still occasionally sticks, so I had to keep unjamming it, and when you've got whole lots of printing to do it's remarkable how long it bloody takes. In the end, I rang the friends whom I was picking up and said I'd be late, and even then I left here at the revised time for getting to them. Amazingly, we were only ten minutes late at the lunch venue, that is, 12.10 for a 12-for-2.45 lunch. Which doesn't even count as late.
But if I was able to work ahead rather than only just in time, I'd have had it sorted and not aged another year in a morning. Maybe next week I'll catch up.
I haven't reported back yet on the new dishwasher. Nothing to say really, it's great. We'd gradually become used to one that wasn't working so well and having to check to make sure that dishes were acceptably clean. If not, a sigh and some washing up done, or else fill with water and leave to soak for a bit before having a second go. On the first evening, I stroked my coffee mug happily, saying to Ro how lovely and smooth and shiny it was. "You mean, clean," he pointed out.
Oh, and I love the new saucepans. All stainless steel and shiny. I think I've already mentioned the thick bottoms.
This morning, I made porridge and put the kettle on and got out a mug for tea. I caught myself about to pour porridge into the mug. Sighing deeply, I fetched a bowl, put it down, reflected on how dopey I am and then found I was pouring porridge into the mug anyway.
Oh, at the meeting last night I bought tickets to a ceilidh in a couple of weeks time. Oh go on, it'll be fun. Or so I've assured the Sage. Who should believe me, both my children had a ceilidh band at their wedding, it being the sort of dancing that everyone can do, whatever their age or ability. I'm not sure about those with dicky hips, but what the hell?
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You are one busy lady. Slow down will you!?
You make porridge? That's it. I'm divorced and on the way over. Get your divorce sorted. This is not negotiable. You make porridge. ;-)
How are you at ceilidh dancing? If you're willing and able, I think this relationship could work!
Did you get the saucepans as a gift with purchase of the dishwasher?
I looked in the medical dictionary at work. It defined Chilblains as frostbite, due to not wearing warm enough socks in winter. Bundle up Z and stay warm!
That's right, I was a bit sceptical as I assumed they'd be not very good and they were giving them away to get rid of them, but they're excellent.
It's not so cold now and the toes are getting better. I don't think they'll turn black and drop off this time, thanks!
A ceilidh! I'm on my way!
Also, I hadn't realised that porridge making was such a desirable quality in a marriage partner. I hope my husband knows how lucky is to have me then.
My daughter had a ceilidh. I didn't join in, as I'm comfortable in doing what pleases me, and not doing what doesn't.
My present husband (for obviously we've discussed Preacherman's ultimatum and he's bowed to the inevitability of the situation) and I both like porridge but prefer it differently so each make our own. We suffer from porridge incompatability.
Dave, I'm comfortable with that too. And a ceilidh is fun to watch anyway.
No I should probably add that I won't be dancing, I don't dance...I only did the compulsory bridal waltz at my own wedding. I do still love a ceilidh though, for the music and watching others dance.
Ceilidhs are wonderful fun - and the band will usually talk you through the steps in case there are novices.
I regularly make cups of tea and forget to put the teabag in - or the coffee in my cafetiere. And I waste hours wondering why I have gone in to a particular room. We are very busy women, with complicated lives and we cannot be expected to do everything right all the time.
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