Sloths and muppets

“Feet – Ground.”

“Ground – Feet.”

Ok that’s enough of the introductions, I’m now going to run off into the wild, tear off all my clothes, act like a sloth and hang out in the jungle camouflaged by green moss.

It’s a New Year. I should be prepared. Only yesterday I was writing about how lovely life was now that I’d been flung off the collapsing Rollercoaster and free falling through the air without a worry in the World. Now I’m sitting here wondering whether it’s worth taking the time out to write a blog that will be read if I’m lucky by ten people.

I’ve been up to my eyeballs today. The dog is having a funny turn and I’m still trying to decide whether allowing my husband to spend any more time with Roger is a good idea. It’s like being in a room with Waldorf and Statler. WS

All Roger has to do is grow a tash and if Mark would have a shave, they would be perfect replicas. They even think they are just as funny.

Roger came over yesterday and the last of the Christmas presents left the house…. no wait I tell a lie, I still have a couple more pressies to go South. Mark didn’t go this year so I have pressies…. and there are a couple to get to Lincolnshire…. and there was me thinking Christmas was over. We’ll just add that to the list of to do’s.

It is never ending.

“Feet, just remember that I never promised you an easy life.”

I honestly believed that it would all settle into place last week as the decorations came down. Or in my case I took the 18inch ready lit tree off the windowsill, I made an effort, don’t knock it! I managed to avoid having the fire brigade coming in over the holiday and closing us down as a safety hazard. I cleared up and you can now walk from one room to another without tripping over anything.

I’ve made a start on the poetry I’ve been asked to write. I’ve thought about it, and that counts. My biggest problem being that thinking isn’t my strongest point. I’ve kicked out at those that asked me to keep them motivated, and tried to find my own mojo. Filled in my tax return, and answered an NHS questionnaire. It was important, what can I say. Giving the NHS staff one more thing to worry about is just what they need right now. Strange as it may seem the only thing the survey didn’t ask was, “has the NHS cured you and made you feel better?” I somehow thought that would be the most important thing. Apparently its more important for the powers to be to ask if you are a gay, transvestite black Jedi knight! Still it’s done and I’ve added my tuppenceworth to the praise of our NHS here in England.

I’ve booked Pups jabs, our dentist appointment and decided to take a holiday at some point this year.

It’s exhausting. So exhausting that I’ve booked myself in at the Spa at the end of the month for a complete revamp. I will be rubbed down with grit, covered in brown gunk and rubbed over with oily hands. I wonder if I could find a mechanic that could do it cheaper?

Really have to get that fantasy out of my head. Walking into Kwikfit is a real disappointment.

Was it worth taking time out to write this blog?

Hell yes. It’s given me the time to rant and rave, have a mocha coffee and sneak in a phone call. I’ve now got to cook the chicken tandoori I prepared earlier, my name isn’t Mary Berry, I don’t have one ready made in the oven. I’ll then be left with a kitchen that defies the rules of organisation. I could even charge those with OCD to come in and clean for me and earn a fortune. I’m good at making a mess.

The first Monday of the first full week of the first month of the first year of the decade. Be glad when today is over and I can get back on the rollercoaster they call life.

Meanwhile I have to resist the urge to rip my clothes off and run out of the house naked. I live in Wigan not Peru!

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