The Apprentice son returns from foreign parts to the bosom of his family today. I am tempted to wear heavy armour and leave a note informing him we have moved house but I will probably muck out his room instead. I would hoover the carpet but there is no visible floor.
Mr Smith is off to the tip in his special tip outfit. He has clothes for every occasion. I might just load him up with the entire contents of both boys' rooms. Sorry chaps, I am bored with asking you to clear up so I have done it for you. Perhaps I will order a skip.
I gave the shed a bit of a sort out and found a few old paintings that I thought I might recycle. With a bit of tittivation I think they could all be quite serviceable. How frugal I hear you cry. Yes, that's me, the woman who sends her husband to the tip with a thousand jam jars all carefully saved over several years ... with their lids. I also send brand new clothes with their labels still attached to the charity shop. (Not when Mr Smith is looking.) Want not, waste a lot.
No comments:
Post a Comment