Don't tell me that! News of the (almost) worst kind

Grumpy not required at work until the afternoon, so taking on the swimming lesson with Chippie duty.

Good thing really, because legs haven’t been waxed in quite some time. So long, I’m embarrassed undressing for the shower in the privacy of my own ensuite! It’s bad.

That load off my mind, I set about getting some work done and pondering how long it will take for the rain to let up so I can wash and hang at least one load of the 896 loads currently sitting in the laundry, the bathroom, the bedrooms, the coffee table and on top of the fridge. Given there’s 896 loads to do, I’m willing to bet it won’t let up for a while.

Grumpy returns home from swimming and informs me (after telling me all week he doesn’t have to go in) that he has to go into work tomorrow. And it’s our turn for morning tea at playgroup. And he has to leave at about 10. which is the time playgroup starts.

Nooooooooo!

I’m just … well, I’m not really a playgroup kinda person. I can think of not much worse than sitting around eating tiny

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