Its the middle of Wednesday afternoon. It's not that I'm counting the hours 'till Mike and I set off to walk from coast to coast (there are there are sixty six and three quarters between now and the off), but I am starting to feel demob-hapy. I cannot, in point of fact, wait.
I have the day off work to do a lot of running around and sorting of things out. Dog to vets, paperwork to the bank, car to the fixer-upper and, of course, tidying and getting my 'stuff' together.
The sight of the cat nestling in the centre of cloth-porridge on the sofa which represents the multiple loads of washing I did on the weekend but haven't yet sorted and folded, along with the utter and indescribable chaos that surrounds me once I manage to ease my way in to my little office would daunt the most determined soul on the best of days. But not me. And not today.
Prepare yourself, mess, for I shall vanquish you this very day.
I only hope Ive got the energy left afterwards to walk up the stairs to bed!
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