Saturday, September 25, 2010

When I got home from playing for a funeral this morning, it was like Clapham Junction chez nous:- 

  • Viola Kid going out the front door;
  • The window-cleaner wanting the back gate opened;
  • The computer-whizz friend just leaving (front door), after helping SuperSpouse unravel 2 pc's;
  • The Tesco man delivering the groceries at the back door, AS the window-cleaner had his well-earned coffee out on the patio;
  • Cello Kid just back from a party, and
  • Saxophone Kid just at home where he was meant to be.
Having dealt with that lot, I started making onion soup.  Enter SuperSpouse.  'When's lunch?'

Fine.  20 minutes later, lunch was served.  I went and swam 30 lengths, nipped into Morrisons to get stuff for tomorrow's harvest festival, came home and dealt with laundry, lasagne and a bread-and-butter pudding.  Which we then despatched with due ceremony and a glass of Chardonnay, then chased down with a coffee.  Whereupon I fell asleep.  Insomnia, me?  No, never, never, never. 

It's all rather annoying, however, because I want to start thinking about a book proposal, and you do need to be awake for that kind of thing.  PseudoSupermum does not have boundless energy, despite appearances to the contrary.

1 comment:

Felicity from Down Under said...

I don't know how you do it! I'm exhausted on your behalf.