Post piles high: precariously balancing on the edge of my desk. I try to hide it with the diary, but that just reminds me of other jobs to do. At some point all this paperwork has to get filed or shredded or recycled.
The book remains part-edited. Can I bring myself to look at it again? Get the red pen out? Cut and paste. Worst of all: delete, delete, delete. It is a long process.
The computer won't communicate with the printer ... again ... Don't know how my husband sorted it out last time. Or rather, I thought I did and so tried it, and have only succeeded in deleting the printer entirely and the computer doesn't seem to want to re-find it.
My entire social calendar this week consists of: dance class, swimming lesson, drama group, choir, cubs and rainbows. And school discos (a new, one-off event). And, of course, there is the daily routing of feeding everyone, dealing with paperwork, doing the washing/ironing/cleaning, providing a taxi-service. Shouldn't there be something in there for me?
Today, stay-at-home-mum seems a lonely and arduous job: bad hours, poor pay.
Tomorrow? Well, perhaps the sun will shine.
(At least then the washing will get dry.)