48 hours

That’s how long it took me to clear the sullage water hose so that it could be shifted for mowing. And I broke a part. Phooey.

It’s also how long I haven’t been able to do housework, because I’m red-faced and gasping for air. As well as rat-faced tired.

It is also how long it takes for my house to go to shit.

There are objects blocking the sink.

There are objects clogging the drainer.

There are objects colonising my clean countertop.

There are dirty dishes colonising strange, new places.

There is (thankfully) no drifts of clothing gathering/breeding in dark corners, but I swear that’s more due to superior effort than anything else. But yes, there is a backlog of laundry.

And now that the mower’s at least working, guess who’s expected to deal with the jungle lawn?

Yyyyyup. Me.

But first I have to restore the house to picture-probable condition. And replace the hose part. And restrain the dog so there aren’t any nasty accidents. And find some sunscreen or a long-sleeve coat I can wear without dying ‘cause I know I’m gonna BURN in the hot sun.

Ohyeah. For the first time in forever, it isn’t raining when I’m pondering the plausibility of fixing the yard. Must be the fact that hubby won’t be home when it’s getting done.


And I have to find/buy a decent dust mask 'cause you can bet money that this will set off my asthma.

I’m gonna make quite a picture, tomorrow. Big pink hat, sunnies, dust mask, long-sleeved coat, sandshoes and bestriped socks. And only half of it will come off when it’s time to pick up the kids.

AND I still have groceries to purchase.


It all just keeps adding up.