Thinking vs Doing

A note came home from Oscar’s school about their inaugural summer markets calling for interested families from the school and their friends to take a stall.
I almost binned it immediately but a couple of days later (sometimes I think I can actually hear my brain at work. In those moments when I can also smell toast) thought, why don’t I do it? Why don’t I have a stall and sell my jams/marmalades/relishes and some other cakes by the slice (or whole if the crowd isn’t cheap) and other sweet little morsels you can’t find decent renditions of anymore.
And I’ve been thinking it ever since.
Then today comes the reminder note to put in your expression of interest for a stall for consideration.
Don’t you love it. Presumption I mean.
Here I was getting all excited and planning what I would have on offer and my stall might not even get a look in.
Typical. Head first into a rockpool I tell you.
I’m going to send the form back in tomorrow.
We shall see.
(But if I do have a stall? I’m going to ask Chef’s mum to whip me up some trestle table covers in gingham and calico and it will be GAME ON.)