Procrastination
Little Nutter pissed all over his room last night. Again. And as the family member with the strongest stomach, it falls on me to clean it up.
So far today, then, I have:
read every english language sport report of this morning’s Grand Prix I can find on the internet
been shopping
ironed some clothes
taken the children to a birthday party
cooked lunch
loaded the dishwasher
mown the lawn
trimmed the hedges
had a rant at some moron on a forum about Political Correctness (which I think is the most effective smokescreen for bigotry ever invented)
found the only Post Office in a thirty mile radius with a Sunday collection, and posted a letter
flown and crashed my r/c model helicopter
ordered the parts I need to mend the above
bought a new, bigger, faster, better r/c model helicopter
opened a bottle of wine
sorted some laundry
deleted some spammers from ASDFriendly
proof read a chapter of Darling Wifey’s novel and discussed the improvements she has written into it
de-scaled the coffee machine
laughed at the schoolboy bloopers in Darling Wifey’s marking
cleaned up after the tiler who did the en-suite yesterday
mopped the kitchen floor
thought about vacuuming the house (steady on!)
played a word in an online game of Scrabble
cleaned the dog’s ears
read the Sunday Times
and written this blog.
I’m running out of excuses.