A quick change of plans for the day this morning as the guy who was coming to help us out in the garden today tacitly announced that he had decided to get drunk last night rather than help us out in the garden today.
I think we’ve all had that “drink now or work tomorrow?” decision to make at some stage in our lives, and I’m quite sure that most readers here have – even if they’re only willing to quietly admit it to themselves – come down on either side at least once. I know I have. Sometimes I have tried to come down on both sides, but that’s not pleasant for anybody the following day.
It did leave us with a fair amount more work to do in the garden though, although ironically, we also have a bit more beer money for tonight. What goes around and all that…*
Anyway, the garden is looking better after a quick makeover and haircut and the neighbourhood What is Up? group has been pinged for suitable replacement garden assistance for the future (this wasn’t the first time our guy chose to fall on that side of the fence).
It’s been a wonderful few weeks over the festive season and holiday, but Real Life™ begins again tomorrow with a return to work, school, gym and all the hustle and bustle of term 1. I have high hopes that the kids will fly this year – 2018 ended on such a high for them.
I guess it all comes down to making the right decisions.
* hence me tagging this with the BLF category.
Finally. The series of three nights of crippling insomnia has been broken. Last night, exhausted, I went to bed, closed my eyes and it actually worked. My body did what it was supposed to and this morning, I feel almost human once again.
Today’s plans have gone badly wrong, however. We were supposed to be going to a braai in Fishhoek, but then Mrs 6000 ended up being thoroughly nebulized twice at the local ER. Three years supply of steroids, plus several (or more) antibiotics and she’s back home with us. A good night’s sleep (I’ll teach her how with my new found skills) and hopefully tomorrow will be a new dawn, in all the different ways. In the meantime, the younger child seems to have developed a bit of a sore throat and a sniffle and has thus been quarantined.
I plan to ward off any potential infection mainly using brandy. I’ve checked out my old microbiology books and apparently alcohol is good at killing all sorts of bugs, so I’m planning to go full on and drink as much as possible. I’m not sure if football has any antimicrobial effects, but I’m going to try a good dose of that this afternoon as well.
We’re lucky enough each to have our own methods of attaching to the internet here at Chez 6000, but that doesn’t mean that we don’t stray into each other’s territory every now and again.
I guess that’s what must have happened today, because I came back to my laptop this morning to find someone had been using it to write stuff. Both of the kids denied it was them, which isn’t great because it clearly was one or other of them (I guess they’re just a bit embarrassed because it’s “uncool”), but creativity – especially during the school holidays – is always to be applauded.
Anyway, one of them has written a poem called The Biscuit Man Is Gone – I’m not quite sure what it’s about, but I’m going to share it here anyway.
The Biscuit Man Is Gone
The Biscuit Man Is Gone.
I went to where He was, but found the
I cried for Him, but there was
I searched all of the rooms, but He is
The Biscuit Man Is Gone, and I am
Interesting cadence, and an almost religious slant to it.
Presumably ‘The Biscuit Man’ is any given deity and the writer is struggling to keep faith in the absence of evidence, answers or support.
Wow. That’s quite deep. My kids are only 12 and 10. I’m impressed.
Right. Anyway. I must get going: lots to do today, starting with getting all this dog hair off my desk chair. Weird.
The last week of any school term is always fairly hectic. The last week of the last term is something way beyond that. Exam results coming in left, right and centre, a prizegiving here or there, the inevitable Christmas concert, a charity civvies day, an activity day, a class party and a last-minute test of parental organisation by giving each child a different finishing time at school on each day.
I nearly left one at school today. Oops.
Is it just me, or are things really more stressful this time around than in previous years? I feel like we never got chance to “reset” our lives going into 2018 and we’re suffering the consequences now.
It’s all rather exhausting – a fact demonstrated by the beagle here:
Actually, this was taken after yesterday’s SPCA Wiggle Waggle Walkathon. It might only have been 4km, but when you’ve got four legs to power instead of two and you’re wearing a fur coat, it can be quite tough.
However, this will likely be my position (ok, not necessarily under the trampoline, but still…) come the end of the week.
Once again, I am court-side at the trampoline park. There’s no blaring music though, because the electricity has just gone down. This was fully expected, but the lady sitting next to me has gone to complain anyway, as if the guys here can do anything about the failed state-owned enterprise which supplies (or doesn’t supply) the power here.
No lights here either then, but there’s enough sunlight filtering through the translucent windows to make the Dodgeball Academy session slightly more difficult and quite a bit more dangerous.
The coffee machine isn’t working, of course.
I may not survive.