It’s strange how things work out.
Or don’t work out, as the case may be?
On Sunday I had planned on a relaxing day but things didn’t go to plan and I had an unexpectedly busy day. As a result, I postponed my rest day ‘til Monday.
Monday dawned bright and fine [which is very fucking unusual in this rain-sodden country] and I decided that my idea of a rest day was a good one.
Mid afternoon, I changed my mind. It was hot and sticky and quite uncomfortable. It was perfect proof of my theory that any sort of humidity made even a mildly warm day here equivalent to sitting in a burning hot sauna. Leastwise I decided to work as the job that needed doing was in the dappled shade of the woods.
Today I realised that my decision to work yesterday was an excellent one. The job I had started a few days ago is now finished, and it is pissing rain all day here. Summer has had its day of glory and we are back on the downward slope. In other words – a perfect day for a drop of relaxation, and maybe even a doze in the armchair.
But then of course I got a phonecall.
I am just back from a bit of emergency childminding. My “day of rest” was spent watching horrendous fucking cartoons on television. I lost count of the number of times the word “awesome” was used. I really fucking HATE that word with a passion.
So now my head is in a right fucking spin and I’m knackered.
I dread to think what tomorrow may throw up.