It's been a busy weekend with one thing and another and up to a point I was quite pleased with my achievements. After a rather "lively" Friday night out, I woke up around 8:00 Saturday morning, resisted the urge to sleep all day in favour of getting up and getting some things done:
~ finished assembling the long service award barbecue
~ unpacked a load more clothes
~ washed and dried two loads of washing
~ re-arranged the lounge furniture to accomodate my hi-fi (pity the two single electrical sockets can't accomodate everything)
~ cleared some space in the garage for my tools & car stuff
~ cleaned the bathroom
~ unpacked numerous more boxes (why have I kept so much of this rubbish?)
~ hoovered throughout the house
~ filled both wheelie bins in readiness for this week's collections
By my normal standards I should have been proud until I realised this is the sort of thing most normal people get up to on a Saturday morning when for the past three years or so, I have been happy languishing in my pit without an ounce of guilt.
Finally tonight, things reached an all time low when I re-acquainted myself with the art of ironing. Ironing has to be the most tedious chore ever invented but all the same it is unfortunately necessary so I opted for my previous routine of getting a whole week's worth out of the way on Sunday night.
So this is what weekends are going to be like then? Oh dear, what have I done...
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