After that tiring day, kids all in bed, craziness abated for the moment … but worse was to come.
There I was, tidying up and putting a few things away when Grumpy informs me he has to work tomorrow morning.
That is, at the time he usually takes Chippie to swimming lessons, and allows me a few hours of quite time in which to get some work done.
This means, I will be required to perform Toddler Swimming Lesson Duty.
For those oblivious to this situation, it means I will be required to don my bathers and get into the pool with said toddler.
My legs haven’t seen daylight, or a wax, for some time now. Long enough for them to be considered horrendous on both counts.
Whilst mildly seething and getting my head around the situation – because things are as they are and it’s no one’s fault and just because it pisses me off at the moment doesn’t mean I can’t deal with it – my three month old coffee plunger decides to take this moment to conduct a perfect suicidal plunge from the shelf above my head, collecting itself on the bench and shattering all over the floor.
(I almost followed)
Perhaps in anticpiation of … or in repsonse to it’s current workload.