Youngest daughter is home and our musical tastes are to put it mildly totally dissimilar. Poor Alexa if she were human would have long since gone home early with a headache. I envy her bland unflappability.
Sunday is allegedly my day for writing so as I am looking at a preparation for a presentation a pitch for a meeting ,an article and two or three letters I start this blog instead.I read somewhere that a woman with some writing to do has a very clean house. To avoid this I have hesitated to venture downstairs. There’s a smudge on the bedroom window though and a cobweb. A trip to the loo can’t be avoided and the handtowel and bathmat need changing. I will tiptoe down and bung them in the washing machine.
Some time later! There was other washing waving at me so I loaded the machine .I also fed the cat fed the permahungry hens( who love cold chips) , collected the eggs emptied the dishwasher filled the dishwasher, cleaned the sink, watered the greenhouse, collected some tomatoes- need I go on. Its now so late I will be lucky to get the damn letters done . All else is longfingered to be fitted in during the week along with work and the activities of daily life .
Is procrastination the punishment of the presently unpublished, the thief of the already time impoverished? Or is it just my problem ?
A loose agreement has been reached on the music and Alexa is giving us hits from the Seventies. As I hear the all too familiar dirge of Dr Hook and the Medicine Something or other song for the utterly depressed it occurs to me that Sylvias Mother is a pain in the ass, probably got all her tasks done on time and that its no wonder Sylvia left home .