Navel gazing on a Saturday

[panik]

It's ten past eleven on the day I clean my house. So why am I still sitting here...?

Yes, it's another action-packed day of meh chez Gilly. I have got to clean this house, I mean, HOW in the name of all the Gods can it get so scruffy in a week? And there's no Jonathan Ross to ease my pain today, just Mark bloody Lamarr.

I ought to take up my machete and do some work on the garden, too; it truly is a rainforest out there but with the weather as it is... ain't gonna happen. I might nip round the chemists and buy more wine - shouldn't, but will. This is what comes of getting the order delivered on a Thursday, but weekend delivery is so expensive and actually shop at Tescos - on a Saturday? O! What kind of fool would do a thing like that?

I desperately need a walk in the hills but even if the rain holds off, it's going to be so boggy underfoot. The waterfall should be looking good, though. And we are promised 'sunny intervals' today. I shall believe it when I see it.

And I have a chapter of fic to finish... I got so close to finishing last night, but it got to 2am and my tapping was keeping the man awake.

You know, I really should get off my arse and clean the house...

::sigh::

Comments

[sallymn.livejournal.com]

I mean, HOW in the name of all the Gods can it get so scruffy in a week?It takes a special skill. And I speak as someone who never quite grew out of that skill :(

[gillyp.livejournal.com]

It's crumbs, mostly. In the rugs, in the carpets, all over the kitchen. Where do all these crumbs originate, though? It's long been a mystery.

[sallymn.livejournal.com]

I was about to say you have a Poltergeist with a cookie fetish...

And I started wondering how Ellison would cope with a Poltergeist with a cookie fetish...

Fandom does strange things to my head sometimes...