Dropped kids off at school and got right into it.
First things first, went to one of two fave local cafes and ordered takeaway latte. Skinny.
It was then a matter of convincing Grumpy to take Chippie with him to get vegies and other stuff for the weekend, whilst I whipped up the cake for tomorrow’s family birthday celebration gathering and worked out what the hell I needed to do for dinner with friend’s this evening.
Receive a text message from a friend, who also happened to be taking a couple of school kids for cooking, my eldest son included. Apparently, he has informed her of his newly acquired skill of climbing onto the garage roof. “It’s a life skill,” he allegedly informed her.
Am glad I have chosen to make a mud cake, as it allows me a couple of legitimate swigs of a coffee liqueur before lunch. Thankfully have enough for cake. And a couple more swigs. And a splosh in my early afternoon coffee.
Cake baked, Grumpy home, Chippie fed, house tidied (ish), kids collected from school and taken to supermarket to grab a few more provisions for weekend. Arrive home 23 minutes before guests due to arrive for dinner, and still manage a shower, and to whip up a dips platter.
Chippie escapes out back door, finds cat’s water, splashes around a bit then drinks from the bucket. Well, that’s him sorted, and leaves me free to serve guests and sit down with a glass of wine.
Dinner served, more wine consumed, Chippie in bed and other kids set up in front of a movie and watching rude clips on You Tube.
Evening finally complete and it hits me: 1) it’s very late and we have 20 guests coming for lunch, and 2) I think I had more drinks than intended.
I really must learn to pace myself. Organising a dinner, followed the next day by a lunch, is just silly. Especially when there’s baking of cakes involved.