Bombs away
I don't think that the Fat Bastard is quite sure what's hit him, though he's in no doubt he's been thumped.
I've been a very, very busy girl. He can't see yet where this is leading and I'm looking forward to the moment what that does dawn on him. More bags of crap than I could count have I decanted from this house in the past week, along with several boxes of books. The difference this has made to the feel of the house is impressive though I've barely begun. Before the end of the year the amount of 'stuff' in this house will be reduced by about 90% and he'll by no means be the only 'victim' of this. By Christmas this house will feel Big rather than Suffocating.
I've picked through the summer clothes that are realistically not going to get much further wear this year. The very best stuff can go away for now; some of the remainder has already gone, the rest will follow next rubbish collection day.
Of the clothes that have come out of storage those that don't fit (I've lost over a stone in weight since the spring) will go rather than hang around just in case I put that weight back on. I'll just have to keep it off. If that doesn't reduce my stock of clothes to manageable proportions then I'll just have to do something else. If all else fails I'll roll a dice. The problem isnt' with my shoes and handbags, of which I have actually very few - a couple of pairs of boots, a couple of pairs of dress shoes, a couple of pairs of work shoes (the summer footwear has been mothballed along with the clothes).
On top of that I've done one of the gardens - pruned and weeded and turned over the soil. On Friday I'll pop out to the garden centre and pick up some winter colour which the Infant and I can plant out after school. I also picked up the bits of the dismantled pool that he left lying about and put them away in their storage box. Unfortunately the liner is still lying in a dirty heap at the bottom of the hole in the yard - I couldn't quite bring myself to grapple with it. I know that such squeemishness is unbecoming in a 50 foot tall Greek Goddess but, well, it is absolutely filthy and filled with pockets of nasty green water.
The plan now is to finish the hole and then turf over it so that it will still be there next year. He also wants to move the washing line from the other garden to this one. Let's examine how his proposition would work: we move the washing line, which in this country can only be used for a handful of weeks in July and August, relocating it to the same patch off garden we've just redeveloped for the swimming pool (which can only be used for a couple of days in July and August).
The man's capacity for making stupid decisions is limitless.
The roses are pruned which may or may not be a good thing for them. I've no idea about roses except that mine seem to flower all year round if left to their own devices which strikes me as odd. I thought that roses were delicate things that needed to be pruned and mulched and shielded and blah, blah. Oh well.
Enough of this nonsense. I must away to work. Perchance to meet my dream baby.
I've been a very, very busy girl. He can't see yet where this is leading and I'm looking forward to the moment what that does dawn on him. More bags of crap than I could count have I decanted from this house in the past week, along with several boxes of books. The difference this has made to the feel of the house is impressive though I've barely begun. Before the end of the year the amount of 'stuff' in this house will be reduced by about 90% and he'll by no means be the only 'victim' of this. By Christmas this house will feel Big rather than Suffocating.
I've picked through the summer clothes that are realistically not going to get much further wear this year. The very best stuff can go away for now; some of the remainder has already gone, the rest will follow next rubbish collection day.
Of the clothes that have come out of storage those that don't fit (I've lost over a stone in weight since the spring) will go rather than hang around just in case I put that weight back on. I'll just have to keep it off. If that doesn't reduce my stock of clothes to manageable proportions then I'll just have to do something else. If all else fails I'll roll a dice. The problem isnt' with my shoes and handbags, of which I have actually very few - a couple of pairs of boots, a couple of pairs of dress shoes, a couple of pairs of work shoes (the summer footwear has been mothballed along with the clothes).
On top of that I've done one of the gardens - pruned and weeded and turned over the soil. On Friday I'll pop out to the garden centre and pick up some winter colour which the Infant and I can plant out after school. I also picked up the bits of the dismantled pool that he left lying about and put them away in their storage box. Unfortunately the liner is still lying in a dirty heap at the bottom of the hole in the yard - I couldn't quite bring myself to grapple with it. I know that such squeemishness is unbecoming in a 50 foot tall Greek Goddess but, well, it is absolutely filthy and filled with pockets of nasty green water.
The plan now is to finish the hole and then turf over it so that it will still be there next year. He also wants to move the washing line from the other garden to this one. Let's examine how his proposition would work: we move the washing line, which in this country can only be used for a handful of weeks in July and August, relocating it to the same patch off garden we've just redeveloped for the swimming pool (which can only be used for a couple of days in July and August).
The man's capacity for making stupid decisions is limitless.
The roses are pruned which may or may not be a good thing for them. I've no idea about roses except that mine seem to flower all year round if left to their own devices which strikes me as odd. I thought that roses were delicate things that needed to be pruned and mulched and shielded and blah, blah. Oh well.
Enough of this nonsense. I must away to work. Perchance to meet my dream baby.
posted by Enyo @ 11:24 am
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