I know I could split it out and increase my readership by doing the sensible mono-subject magaziney thing, but then that would tie me to thinking a certain way on a regular basis and so I have steadfastly avoided it.
I am already terribly bad at remembering LunaNina's word association list which comes out every Sunday. Guilt of guilts, I am listed on her blog as a participant and feel beholden to honour the contract, but I admit that there are weeks when I look at the words but just don't feel inspired to find answers.
I guess the bottom line (as Zilla indicated in her comment one post down) is that blogging is my bar of chocolate. Its my little sneaky luxury, my procrastination project, so as soon as I tie any sort of format to it its going to switch from the naughty treats list in my brain to the one marked 'Must Do'.
That, I think, would be the death of it altogether; at least until I establish a replacement sin. Nonetheless it would become work.
Its rather mindboggling then, that, impetuous fool that I am, I have just signed on the dotted line to join TLC's Thursday 13 game. It just looks like so much fun that I couldn't resist.
This week's Thursday 13 game is a list of "13 Things That I Probably Won't Get Around to Doing Today, and Five That I Will". Maybe it will be the same remit every week, but hey.
As a double whammy then, both to catch up and to express a little necessary defiance which will make me feel perverse enough to enjoy this, I am doing my list now, so today is my Thursday 13 Friday. Ha.
4. a haircut (can't remember the last time I had one!)
5. a wardrobe clear out
6. writing a book
7. saving the world
8. patiently explaining to my 23 year old daughter that her memory of her childhood is completely warped and up the wall
9. patiently explaining to my 23 year old daughter that her martyr's memoirs are fictitious, insulting and hurtful and draw a huge gap between us
10. patiently explaining to my 23 year old daughter that I damn well know she's on way more whacky backy than the 'just the one to get to sleep' that she professes and I am tired of her thinking everyone in the world has eyes and a brain except her mother
11. calling my mum (I usually do, but she has visitors this week)
12. putting on my yoga video and puffing along
13. being remotely Stepford-style domesticated
3. Same as TLC: dishes, dishes, always dishes. Seems to be the sole reason for my existence around here
4. smoking ultra thin rollies with ultra thin menthol filters
5. reading a really good book
This is a double cheat because I've already walked to town, bought plant pot trays, savaged two huge rosemary bushes with the secateurs (they love it, sadly, every time you butcher them they just make more branches and come up, well, bushier), stood guard over a man changing the electricity meter, fed the cats/rats/g-pigs/kids, exchanged long and very carefully worded emails with the Caseworker who is dealing with Son's education, and sent Son to school in trainers because he misplaced his school shoes, but completely forgot to send him with a letter of excuse for breaking uniform code.
Oh yes, and his chosen topic of conversation on the way to school, courtesy of having seen the news, was whether China etc were really going to join forces with America (because they had a war once, you know, says he) or whether they want to take over. Whether the takeover will be in business dominance or whether it will involve transplanting politics and communism, and whether, as the UK didn't go to war with them and we had a deal about Hong Kong, and we're sort of friemds with everybody, might we be able to stay neutral and friendly and not get communised/blown up/put out of jobs. At 8.15 on a Friday morning.
And my 23 year old daughter says that time has whizzed past her and she's (gasp) 23 (!!) and nothing has changed since she was sixteen, that she is feeling terribly depressed and misused and panicked, because, God forbid, if she doesn't pull her finger out soon she will end up just like me and that would be disgusting and nauseating and a fate worse than death. But don't tell her I said so, because she changes her mind more often than she goes to the loo and will accuse me of getting half the story and adding my own ending and showing her up and generally being useless and a bit mongoloid. Again.
I love my life.
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