It’s Friday afternoon, it’s miraculously sunny (so I should be outside getting H some quality Vitamin D), the house looks like an outtake from Hoarders (so I should be tidying), and I’ve got a ton of work to do (so I should be, you know, doing it).
But Henry is asleep, and I’m going for a nap. I may have aced my blood pressure appointment this morning – gooooooo blood! – but this massive belly ain’t a sleeping aid. Plus, we watched the latest episode of Broadchurch last night (are you watching Broadchurch? GO AND WATCH BROADCHURCH) and I spent the rest of the night embroiled in various tense whodunnit dreams. Tim is in Amsterdam next week when the final episode is scheduled, and I honestly think I might have to wait till he gets back so I’ve got someone to clutch at 4am. I get a bit too involved; maybe it’s David Tennant’s intense beard.
Naff off, must-be-busy guilt.