Some things escape my attention on a daily basis. Some things get tucked to the back of my mind and I leave them there on purpose. Some things are so deadly dull I simply can’t be bothered.
I can’t be bothered until all those things I’ve swept under the carpet cause a bump so big I trip over it everytime I walk through the living room and have to report myself to casualty with yet another shoulda washed the shower curtain broken bone…
Shoulda woulda coulda. But I didn’t, I just jolly well didn’t and I’d like to say I’m ashamed but most of the time I couldn’t give a flying hoot because I’m too busy living to be worrying about the oh so dull minutie.
And then days like yesterday happen. Days when my plans go awry and twiddling my thumbs doesn’t seem that thrilling. Days when all of a sudden I am possessed by the urge to attend to things most horrid, things most urgent and other things not very urgent at all . Days when I lift up the rug and have a good old stare at all matter of dusty horrors I’ve been avoiding dealing with. Days designed for catching up and cheese and french mustard on thick slices of granary toast. Catch up Sundays.
Yesterday was one of those days. A fuzzy wuzzy bit hungover from too much easter egg kinda day. A someone has chucked me off their friends list on Facebook kinda day (I’m too old for this nonsense! I don’t even understand the concept of the silly pokey thing but think unfriending me is a bit extreme!! Blasted men, I’m offending them left, right and centre these days). A day when the best laid plans of mice and vintage mommies went to pot and I found myself with a child free afternoon and a scruffy house on my hands. Which struck me as a rather fortunate combination given that it was my “nesting” day… you know that day just before your period when nature blesses you with a mini version of the need to get the house ready just before the baby is born…?
Well it was that day. And as my presence watching football in a pub (??) was no longer required (Don’t ask…but let it be known Paul that I bought NEW beautiful, flesh toned, cork heeled SHOES for the occasion but may forgive you regardless), I found myself in a frenzy of the might as well’s…
Might as well finally write the application for The Masters in Writing I’m hoping to attend in September. Might as well bundle Finn’s old clothes into the charity
A girl needs to catch up on her sleep too you know.
Catch up days are fun, but I’m not sure they can be scheduled. Maybe they are only possible when they aren’t an obligation?
I do so hate to feel obliged.