Not Doing The Housework

'What are you going to do tomorrow?', asked Offsprog Two.

'Housework', I truthfully lied because I thought I was, but I didn't. I went for a mud wrestle (that's what they call walking now around these parts, or at least they do now). Tiny winter birds were out in force, tweetling away with gusto, call and response, conversation, territory-patrolling, whatever it is they do with those little piping voice boxes of theirs. It wasn't such a long walk as yesterday's, although it felt longer because of the amount of time it took to move one foot out of one flooded mud rut and place it in another. The exercise prompted a flood of fatigue, which was only countered by watching a couple of hours of Brexit telly, fortified by chocolate and nougat. I suppose I put out the rubbish, which probably counts as housework. 

The insurmountable problem is that the vacuum cleaner is blocked and all I can think about is forcing Richard Dyson to come and use one of his bloody vacuum cleaners himself to show him how useless they are. They should re-knight him 'Sir Fluff', the man who invented a jolly plastic machine that picks up grey tumbleweed from one part of the house and deposits it in another. We could ask the man who accidentally invented post-it notes (he invented a glue that wouldn't dry) for suggestions about what to do with Dyson's potential landfill devices. Some sort of wildflower seed distributor, perhaps?

No, no, don't think about it. Be positive! It's post-Boxing Day, pre-birthday. I think its going to snow tomorrow so I'll make a snow birthday cake and melt it with candles. Ha ha! The best present this year (apart from Christmas Day, which was lovely) has been sleep. I have stopped worrying about the students and how they are managing (or not), and started counting sheep. There are millions of them, and they all smile, or maybe that's just their natural expressions. 

I have got a song particle ready to send to Robert on New Year's day. At midnight on NYE we will be 'dropping' a new video. Before then, I'll record the first couple of demos for a 2021 solo album. I might even finish the embroidery I started 19 years ago (!). And during all this, I'll be rampaging through a box of Rose and Violent Creams that the Offsprog gave me for Christmas. 

Same problem as pink and white marshmallows. 

Do they taste different from each other? 

Let me try just one more to see.