THE clocks went forward this weekend, as if we weren’t dealing with enough confusion as it is.

Now, not only do I NOT know what day it is. I no longer know what time it is.

Not that it matters of course, it’s not as if I’m going to be late for… well anything quite frankly.

Despite missing out on a much needed extra hour in bed over the weekend (it seems the less I do, the more exhausted I am) I’ve had plenty of time to reflect on niggling concerns that have begun to bother me:

Bty
Day 16 of lockdown and Mamma is feeling more confused than ever
  • After years of putting off a good spring clean around the house, I’ve come to the conclusion that my excuse of ‘I just don’t have time’ isn’t good enough anymore. And I wholly sympathise with all those hubbies out there who promised that when they ‘had time,’ the DIY chores would get done…
  • I’ve decided to follow the teachings of de-clutter guru Marie Kondo, tidiness equals a clean mind or something to that effect… And considering my spring cleaning has been put on hold, I figured if I clean something, anything, I won’t feel so guilty. So I’m getting rid of those obsolete household items that I no longer need, like my alarm clock, clothes that don’t fit anymore… (aka my whole wardrobe since all I do is eat all day, alarmingly more than when I was pregnant where I gained 22 kilos) it goes without saying my scales are getting the chuck too. There, I feel better already!
  • But personally, what I find most unsettling is that I never expected my hands to devour more alcohol than my mouth…

But weekends are for fun and games, at least they used to be…

My kids challenged me to the ‘spider web’ game. Believe it or not, it didn’t involve any electronic devices, rather a bit of old-fashioned wool.

Bty
Mamma in Pjs, Keep Calm and Fill Up Your Flask

The corridor was set up like an obstacle course, wool strung from one side to the other, and the challenge was to get through it without touching the string. The forfeit, the dirty dishes (two days’ worth, I couldn’t afford to lose).

But I was ready, my flask topped up.

Though I should note that whenever I’ve envisioned fighting to help save the world, I’ve always fancied myself decked out in sturdy steel armour, waving a jewel encrusted sward above my head whilst I let out a piercing war cry…

Yet here I am, in my pjs, flask in hand, struggling not to get tangled up in a bit of wool…

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