Up at sparrows, did two loads of laundry, took breakfast over to the G-K's and met their adorable three-week-old, dropped the car off to get cleaned, WENT TO THE GYM*, picked up the car, bought some chiyogami paper, came home, painted two chests of drawers whilst listening to HRC's audiobook, wrote my 750 words, read a huge chunk of a novel I need to read for next trimester, called my mother, hoovered the house, about to be in bed by 10.30pm.

I don't even recognise myself.




* This is the bit I find most shocking.

Random burst of energy this evening has had me starting the painting job I was planning to get started on tomorrow.

I'm contemplating going to the gym with the spare time this will create tomorrow.

WHO AM I AND WHAT HAVE I DONE WITH MYSELF?!?

It's not to early to go to bed, is it?

Like, I'm not a lame old lady by putting my pajamas on the second I walk in the door, am I?



THE ANSWER TO BOTH OF THESE QUESTIONS IS 'YES' BUT I REALLY DON'T GIVE A RAT'S. 

Got my gym program done tonight. She's got me doing weights with the bros upstairs who like to lounge around on the machines looking tough.

NOT ON MY WATCH, BROS. If I see you sitting there on that machine talking on your phone between reps, you'd best watch me kick your ass outta there. This bitch is on a SCHEDULE.

Farewell Tom Petty, staple of my teen years and oft-revisited throughout my adulthood.

My uncle just told me I have 'the patience of Job' when it comes to dealing with my mother's antics.

I beg to differ.

SHE. IS. DRIVING. ME. BONKERS.

Yes, I am a terrible daughter. This is also why I am not a mother.

Slept in, got some work done whilst listening to Hillary's audiobook, then trawled the house for things to chuck out for the bi-annual hard rubbish collection. Just a lazy Sunday.