Busman's holiday, Christmas, for mums.
I was thoroughly and totally fed up of being at home, after two solid weeks running round after everyone. Making a meal, clearing up, then it's time to make another one and clear it up again. While various comers and goers and hangers-on eat chocolates, slump, watch TV and drink my wine. Humph. And ill every damn minute of it with a rotten cold. Again.
I was equally dreading the drear horror of going back to work. Even though after the the wonder of Christmas Day the rest of the break seemed to drag on interminably in a fog of housework and warming up mince pies, the recession still had not ended as of yesterday.
It was so cold in the office, I had to go home at lunchtime to put a vest on. Really.
I am endeavouring to get into my groove, find my stride. My work achievements so far have been neglible (other than, I suppose, not slitting my wrists on Monday morning. Or Tuesday morning). I'm still warming up.
Just watch me run! Eventually. I hope.
And someone simply HAS to tell me why sometimes the spacing doesn't work in Blogger. It's pissing me off.
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