I can see the English (and for good reason) answer to everything: tea and toast. Except at the last second I went for sweet, milky coffee and am now experiencing a wobbly, over-tired, sugary high. I can see crochet therapy.
After 72 hours of working with the Mr on his scary deadline, all of which culminated in the inevitable sprint to the finish, just-throw-everything-on-the-floor-as-you-go, there are many things I can’t see.
I can’t see the piles of washing (even though I vaguely remember this one is clean and at least it’s still in a basket):
I can’t see the streams of paper offcuts strewn knee-deep over the floor between the studio, kitchen, living room, shed, but not the bathroom (no one’s had time to visit there):
I can’t see the stack of last night’s dirty dinner dishes...
...waiting to be loaded in a dishwasher still half filled with clean or possibly unclean (I can’t see, so I wouldn’t know) crockery:
Nope. This is all I can see:
I even managed to squint past spreading butter and jam on the toast with the wrong end of a fork because I also couldn’t see any clean knives.
For anyone contemplating a spontaneous drop-in at my house, tonight is not the night. Or not, at least, until the completion of several rounds of the Ten Minute Tidy.
PS. COME HELL OR HIGH WATER, I’M HAVING A GLORIOUS WEEKEND - HOPE THE SAME GOES FOR YOU!