Well, it transpires the golf dinner dance, that I would rather impale myself on a Big Bertha than attend, is actually next weekend not Sat as I had thought. That gives Mr Smith another whole week in which to change his mind about attending. He had better not!
I am dismayed to see it raining all over the cows. Oh dear. I will go to Argos and procure one of those gazebo thingies. They're only £18 and will keep the cows dry. However, I will probably waste an entire morning erecting the damned thing.
Living in a state of extreme nervousness cannot be good for one. I just get so damned stressed about these projects. I really must learn to work within my comfort zone. That means occasionally saying NO. I so wish I had never taken on this cow project; it is so beyond me. I am getting there but I wish I had another three weeks not three days! But Mr Smith likes me to earn the occasional crust and the cow money will pay the builder at the seaside as opposed to Mr Smith paying the builder at the seaside which is what I had in mind.
Sorry I can't see beyond wings and udders these days ... Come Thursday I can return to the real me and it will all be cupcakes and paintings. How Mr Smith will like that!
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