Oh Thomas. Thomas Thomas Thomas.
I see your effing engine and I raise you



Sucked in buddy. Your rotation has moved from constant to every other day. Monster’s Inc has kicked your butt. As has Peter Pan. And Wallace and Grommit.

And let’s just take a moment to give thanks for that.

I have been nothing if not industrious around here of late.
I cleaned out the fridge and freezer.
I fixed the shelf in the fridge.
I purchased 10 bags of sand for the sandpit, loaded them into the brick with wheels, unloaded them at home and then moved them again as I emptied them into the sandpit. That is 250kg of sand people. I’ll convert it for those in the land of the gun-wielding. An effing shitload.
Sure, I felt like a bushpig, but what a workout!
I cleaned up the backyard, which yes, meant shovelling more shit. Stupid dogs.
I’ve done about eleventy gagillion loads of washing (after all that wet weather we had last week and my stubborn stupidity resistance to re-establish the inside clothesline caper and finally sorted it all and (this is the important bit) put it all away. My husband owns so many pairs of undies. Jasper wears so many clothes. Grover’s clothes, so cute!
But now I have a cold. Jasper started to show signs of one on Saturday. Sunday night I felt all my sinuses blocking up. Monday I woke up and could hardly talk.
Jasper was hard work today, in that he and I were phlegm-buddies so neither feeling crash hot – me being cranky he being into all the things he gets fixated on when he’s tired, hungry, looking at ways to make my brain bleed from my ears.
On top of that Grover was restless and wakeful – crying out several times during his day sleep and just feeding a lot.
But otherwise being the absolute bucket of smiles he is, interspersed with grunts as he works on crawling or maybe starting to sit.
Chef went to see the snipsnip doctor today. He’s had a cancellation. So snipsnip is happening on Monday. As in, this Monday.
I asked him if it was reversible. And as I asked I burst into tears.
Go figure that one out.