It was Friday again. That sweet spot in the week when the toil is done and anything is possible. Heading home to treat the kids to a pizza and me to a night off making the supper.
I didn’t even get annoyed by the people on the train with the bags. You know the ones, they put their luggage on the seat next to them as a silent ‘go away’ to anyone audacious enough to want to sit there. ‘I’m staying on my ownio, with my bag,’ is the message. Meanwhile the rest of us are supposed to walk straight past for easier prey – for the chair next to someone fool enough to sit nicely in one seat. Ha. Well I’m not having it. Nope. “Is anyone sitting there?” I asked looking pointedly at the M&S bag (dinner for one, most likely), the briefcase or whatever it is that’s quite plainly not a person sitting there. They look so cross, don’t they? So miffed that they can’t enjoy limitless elbow room. Hard cheese. It’s not how it works. It’s a train and it’ll be nearly full by the time we leave Paisley, so sort out your luggage and behave yourself.
But it was Friday so I smiled and thanked them pleased I didn’t have to sit glaring sideways (it’s very hard to glare at the person next to you on a ScotRail train).
Instead, my destination was productivity central. I was going to achieve like a boss this weekend. I’ve got a to-do list as long as a long thing with a long tail, but I wasn’t daunted.
And the icing on this fin de semana gateau hit me as I walked through the door. My house was clean, and I didn’t have to do it. I stood in the hall and revel for a moment. Nothing beats cleaner Friday.
But my revelling didn’t last long because Boy Two was going to camp for the weekend and leaving in not very many minutes. He still needed to eat, find a groundsheet, locate £15, feed his hamster and tell me something crucial about someone or a thing. Must have been a thing.
But once he’s happily camping, the list vanquishing could begin. Oh yes. I was planning unstoppable accomplishment.
Stuffed crust with what? And pretend chicken thingies. How much? But there’s an offer 3-for-2, half price, 25% off, half and half. What? Why is buying a pizza at the best price so flipping complicated? Every week?
We’re off soon on our holidays. Very soon. So that’s grand. Roof box, packing, insurance documents, warning triangle. Grand. And the hamster needs to be booked into his bijou digs.
Now where’s my list?
But first a park made from paper in 3D, like they have on the Internet. Boy Three makes a lot of noise when he’s tired and you can’t find the paper park part of the Internet that he wants right now.
I’m going to get rid of some of the clutter. The stuff that cascades and impedes. If only I had the time I could create wide open spaces and room to move. Time like this weekend. That’s right.
And then there was a really long discussion about why the colour of hungry is green. Obviously.
Yet because it’s a wide open weekend of hours and minutes, I had plans to improve myself too. Hair: coloured, cut, removed and plucked as appropriate. Skin, buffed and painted. Body: vigorously exercise, diligently stretched and indulgently fed gin and sweeties. Plenty of time for all that, of course there is.
Is that the time? How did that happen? I mustn’t forget to feed the hamster.
Good lord. How did the kitchen get to be such a state? And what is he talking about? The Panther’s telling me something really important about someone. Who? Yes. Crikey that was important.
The list. Yes, 73 items. And none of them to do with writing a blog post. I’ll just do one quickly, won’t take long. Really. But first the in box. Oh no 189 items.
Sigh. Maybe next weekend then…