Time flys

What has happened to my day?  This morning I tried a little more tidying up of Casa del Cushie.  I know once upon I time my house was reasonably clean and tidy but my clockwork appears to be running down.  The biggest problem is that I start to do something and then get distracted.  I do a bit of this and that and then settle down to do a few crafty things.  Today I shopped, tidied, fed the animals (oops forgot to feed the animals), I made the bed, moved some folded clothes from one room to another and then started to make a pompom.

While I was happily winding wool through my little pompom maker my friend rang and said she was on her way over for tea.  I had in fact forgotten she was coming.  I knew when I was shopping because I bought the ingredients for tea but as for thinking of cooking tea that certainly didn't happen.  When she rang it was six o'clock.  I thought it was about two.  Luckily for me I only had to make a stir fry and so it was ready in about fifteen minutes.  I must say it was delicious but sadly there are no leftovers.

I have a lot of things to do this week because the child of my loins if coming over from Melbourne.  I am washing some bed clothes that have been in the cupboard and seem musty to me.  I hate to think that I would be putting the child of my loins in a musty bed.  The worst thing about getting ready for her is that I have to shift all my good stuff (junk) out of the room so she can have a bed.   So what with all the work that needs doing and my incipient hoarding the hours slip past me.  I am scared that the week will be gone and nothing will have changed.  Perhaps if I don't get anything done I can just shift all the stuff from the spare room into my room on Friday.

Tomorrow I must get more things done to the house.  I must, definitely must, sort out all my wool and material.  I have to find neighbours and friends to hide things from the child of my loins. If time gets away from me I will be caught out and have to endure a lecture about spending money and so on and etcetera.

Tempus Fugit.