...and I really should be doing things, not sitting here catching up with blogland.
I really should be out walking the dogs but Lurcher No. 1 is roaching in bed with Himself. Lurcher No.2 is curled up on a dog bed next to the radiator and Bridie is lying on another bed quietly chewing a toy. It really seems a shame to disturb them.
I really should be making my Christmas decorations and going out to buy a tree but the thought of the massed hordes out there doing exactly the same thing this morning is making me curl up with dread. I need to put my wreath base into soak and go collect some holly so I can make it. Can I face the resulting punctured hands? Not yet.
I really, really should be cleaning the house and washing all the dog beds and sofa throws. But my electricity bill arrived this week and was three times what it normally is because Himself just chucks everything in the tumble dryer rather than hanging it out to dry. The thought of being surrounded by wet washing is not appealing but I can't face another electricity bill of that size.
I really should go shopping for food. The fridge is empty and the cupboards all but bare. The supermarket on a weekend before Christmas? Perhaps later.
So I shall sit here and contemplate my navel instead. There'll be plenty of time to panic later.
Birds get away with everything. - I wonder if birds ever hear songs on the radio and then chirp those songs and then the other birds are like, “OMG, FRANK. THAT SONG IS AMAZING. I CAN’T B...