Stubbly Legs and PMT - A Bad Combination

I’m feeling a lot like the star of Groundhog Day today, like my husband pressed the repeat button on my life and now it’s stuck. Each day starts exactly the same as the one before, and each ends the same and the middle portion is just a rotation of the same activities which I try and alternate just to shake things up a bit!

I started thinking about those surveys that tot up the average time you spend over your lifetime doing any given activity like, “Shaving Legs – 1 week”, “Sleeping - 6 years (in Accountant’s case, 12 years)”, Picking Nose – 3 months (Accountant, 12 months). It prompted me to undertake a little actuarial work of my own and I’ve calculated the following based on my current lifestyle:

Watching Chickie and Accountant make a mess -3 years
Poo/bottom related duties - 5 years
Watching Chickie produce stains/treating stains - 3 years
Watching Chickie and Accountant create washing/ironing - 2 years
Doing the washing - 4 years
Procrastinating over ironing - 4 years
Watching Accountant and Chickie double my housework - 10 years
Jigging a crying/sick/whingey Chickie - 5 years
Listening to Accountant snoring then beating Accountant to consciousness - 2 years
Weighing myself - 3 years

That leaves no time for shaving legs, sleeping and picking my nose so I guess I can claw some years back that way. I feel happy that Accountant does enough for both of us.

I’m officially bored. Does that sound awful? I do have PMT so that will be a major factor toward my whining. I know how lucky I am so feel guilty for feeling less than chirpy but sometimes I just can’t help it.

I’ve handmade all my Christmas cards, wrapped all my presents using co-ordinating paper and ribbon to dazzling effect, alphabetised my receipts and chronologically ordered my photographs. All that’s left is the ironing and I even did a bit of that today so clearly desperate times.

On receipt of aforementioned handmade Crimbo cards, my nice friends said, “I don’t know where you find the time”. My male friends said, “you need to get out more”.

I can’t get out more, I have a two stone baby attached to my right leg, where I go, he goes. That rules out bungee jumping (would give him a headache), paragliding (too heavy), going to the pub (can’t hold his liquor), going shopping (he cries), going out for lunch (starts food fights). So, where do I get out more too? Suggestions please.

I do love my yummy little baby though and am very proud of him today as he took his first steps using his baby walker. Unfortunately, he rapidly gained more momentum than he was comfortable with, so plopped himself to the floor and cried!