Dun dun dun.

When I was a teenager, I used to spend hours drawing and painting and making collages from cut out bits of Rolling Stone and thought it was oh so important to be fulfilling my artistic needs. It is in that spirit that I say:

Let me paint you a picture! 

My dining room table is piled high with clothes (but they are neatly folded), my sink is piled with last night's dishes (but I went round my mother in law's and did all hers), and I am piled all into my office chair, sitting in the dark, in my own room, ruining my eyes with the light of my laptop because if I turn on the actual lights, then it might wake the dragon (AKA my two year old son).

He is sleeping comfortably in our large bed, as is his custom, and I respect that. I mean, he's a person and he likes to be amongst other people. I have a really hard time sleeping on my own, and I'm (nearly) an adult. So I leave him there, and I live around him, because it's the only time in his life he's going to want me this much.

So it's cool. Right?

Yes. It is. I am sure of it.

There are a lot of things I should be getting on with. There are always things to be getting on with. My laundry hamper possesses a fertility unknown to mankind - I mean, I certainly don't change my food stained, torn, stretched from the incessant toddler manhandling, and very much comfort-over-style wardrobe more than once a day, and yet - the hamper -  it waits there in the corner, always full, always beckoning, always mocking me in my attempts at making it EMPTY.


Mainly, I suppose I would start by folding away the buggy, but not before emptying it of the shopping. I would have done that straight away, but I thought about it, and there wasn't anything for the freezer in there, so, after checking with me, I was okay with just leaving it in the hallway.

Then, I guess I could wash the dishes, but it's 8:34 PM on the night of the day where DS (Dear Son, as I will refer to him hence forwards) did NOT nap, in spite of my thrilling miles long walking tour of our village. I guess he just doesn't appreciate the significance of a high street that's so well preserved and loaded with listed properties, yet.

 It's funny, really, how I started it to make him knacker out and sleep, so I might like, sit, still, without whimpering - and what really happened was he stayed awake and I wore out my back and didn't get to sit still, and there was so much whimpering. From me. On second thought, that's not terribly funny.

What I really wanted to say in this whole entry was WELCOME! I will be entertaining you with my tales of love and woe and WHOA what does that scale say, and so much other yay.

I hope you enjoy reading.

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