Is it any wonder that when I walk into a room I forget what I was going to do? The rooms in my house are like pies, and I have fingers in all of them.
I walk into my room thinking to get dressed; the pile of unsorted laundry has been heaped nicely back into the basket in the middle of the floor so husband won’t have conniptions about it still being there. But that means I can’t easily find what I need, and I know there is nothing wearable in my drawer (so I need to go shopping?), so I head to the laundry. There is clean laundry in another basket there, but it has tea towels stuffed on top. So I must fold the tea towels and take them to the kitchen, whereupon I spy my half-drunk tea. So I drain and refill it with the half-drunk from earlier, which means it needs to be reheated. But then I must powder my nose. I may or may not get some borax post-visit to sprinkle before pawing through that basket in the laundry, then head back to my dressing room to – perchance – get dressed. Then brush teeth and make dismayed faces in the mirror over the beer neck I have acquired this week. Find socks – probably in the laundry again, find shoes where Husband erroneously put them in the shoe cupboard, call children to come down to get ready for school. Maybe go upstairs for socks which they never remember to get, then come back down to the laundry and find some in the other basket there. Lunch boxes, jumpers (sweaters), show and tell items, spare clothes for nearly 3yo (for today is my day off from children for 6 hours). Probably find unnecessaries or leftover foodstuffs in the car – which drives Husband completely bonkers (mwuh ha haaaaa) – and then maybe drive down the driveway on time. Must not forget to check faces before getting out of the car, everyone’s a critic.