Blogless Days

I'm sorry that I've neglected my blogging duties over the past few days, but not one person has requested an application form for any of the job opportunities, which I advertised in my last post! I can't imagine why not! Most of the vacancies were aimed at women and most of the people visiting my blog, are female, as far as I know. I'm beginning to doubt that any of you are used to working for low pay, or no pay!

Unfortunately, I left it rather late to advertise for help. I have to admit that, over the last few months, my blogging habit has resulted in a backlog of household chores. I've caught the bedclothes trying to make their own way to the laundry basket, on more than one occasion, just recently. The cobwebs, hanging from the ceiling, in our house, have been as thick as jungle vines, but they've come in very handy for swinging over the mountainous piles of ironing, which have taken on lives of their own, lately, continually running around the house in an endless search for the ironing board and iron. The garden has become so overgrown that family members are afraid to venture into it, without taking a precautionary packed lunch and thermos. It became necessary, therefore, for me to start catching up with the backlog of my own chores, over the past few days.

On the first day, I tackled some of the washing, which I had hoped to leave to the laundress. This included my poor, cream jumper, which had been in soak for a fortnight, since I dropped chocolate cake and raspberry coulis down the front of it, whilst visiting a local cafe, with one of my friends. It was an extremely pleasant surprise to find that my favourite jumper hadn't rotted away, but was, once again, stain-free. Hooray for Stergene Handwash! Complimentary goods to the usual address, please.

The next day, I forced myself to act as companion to one of my other friends, as she wished to visit a nearby ornamental garden and plant centre. My clean jeans were still wet, an hour before she was due to arrive, so I had to light the gas fire to dry them off. When the doorbell rang 50 minutes later, I was wearing my damp jeans, but still ironing the creases out of my newly-washed t-shirt. My friend was quite bemused, when I explained why my house was as hot as the devil's kitchen. She was obviously the sort of person who habitually went to bed at 10pm, got up at 6am and had all of her chores done, by the time some of us were still trying to force open our eyes, and find our way to the bathroom, with the vain hope of avoiding a full-length sprawl on the landing, in the process. She couldn't understand how I could be so disorganised!

We set off a mere 15 minutes later than intended, for the gardens and plant centre, where I was compelled to enjoy myself, throughout the whole of the day, admiring the beautiful borders, having lunch in the cafe, enthusing over the handmade items in the craft gallery and buying new additions for my own garden, in the plant centre. It was incredibly hard work and all for no financial reward! I have to confess that I overspent a little, in the plant centre, however!

The following morning, I had to meet some of my friends for coffee and then, whilst doing my own shopping, in the supermarket, a duty I had intended to leave to my newly-appointed cook, I picked up some flowers, for another friend, and walked to her house, to deliver them in person. My husband and I had enjoyed a lovely meal at her house, a few days before, so I wanted to take her some flowers as a thank you. I drank more coffee with my friend, forgetting to visit the loo before leaving her house, so I very much regretted that I hadn't worn my new, stylish, easy to wear, discreet and comfortable tena pants, that day, as I sprinted the last few yards of my journey home!

For the next 4 days, it was necessary for me to work in my own garden, as there had been no interest, whatsoever, in the gardening position I advertised in my last post. At the end of the first, long day of my gardening duties, I noticed that my right knee was quite painful, and after a lot of probing, I eventually removed the half-inch thorn, which had spitefully pierced my flesh at some time during the day. I searched, in vain, for some antiseptic cream to apply to my wound, but I suddenly recalled that my eldest son was away for the night and I realised that he had most probably taken the cream with him, to apply to his newly-tattooed, right, upper arm. DON'T GO THERE! By the next morning, the condition of my knee appeared to have worsened, the area surrounding the site of the puncture, appearing red and hot to the touch. I limped around, nobly, for the next 3 days, continuing with my unpaid gardening duties, regardless of the pain and discomfort!

I couldn't work on any of my embroidery projects over the last week, due to a recurring problem with my eyes, but I was able to catch up with a lot of my cleaning and ironing. The direct result of my busy week, therefore, is that I am 'laid up' on the sofa, suffering, exhausted and whimpering softly. I regret to report that I contracted pneumonia from wearing my damp jeans, at the beginning of the week, which turned into double pneumonia, by the time I had spent 4 days working, stripped to the waist, in the garden, towards the end of the week. I can hardly straighten up, because of my aching muscles and I'm suffering from septicaemia, due to the thorn which pierced my right knee.

Okay, so I may have exaggerated my ailments, just a little, but my frequent suffering has served to convince me that full-time blogging is definitely a safer and, on the whole, a more desirable option, for the mean, moody middle-aged woman, than life in the real world. After all, I've never found it necessary to wear damp clothes, never had to admit to any of my friends that I'm totally disorganised, never overspent, never come so close to sullying my clean undergarments, never suffered aching muscles, exhaustion, or had a thorn go into my knee, due to blogging on my computer. From now on, it's definitely going to be a blogger's life for me!