Life Just isn’t Fair

Today I managed just 250 words of an article draft. Apart from my fulfilling my blog schedule, those are the first words I’ve written since we got back from holiday a week ago.

Yet I haven’t been idle. It feels as though I’ll never catch up.

There were messages on the phone that needed attention. Sadly none of these informed me that someone wanted to buy my house.

When I collected my emails, there were over 2000 in my spam folder – I have to check them in case some missive from an editor has crept in there by mistake. There were also about 150 to be read in my inbox, and while some were just info about comments and so on, others needed replies or other action. Sadly none were about article sales.

Once I’d unpacked, there was a ton of washing, and since my son and girlfriend had been staying in the house while we were away, there was extra bed linen and towels to add to it. I’ve been doing one or two loads a day, and today I did the few items that just had to be handwashed. I’ve also been doing about an hour of ironing each day as well, but of course, I keep adding to the pile.

Since my batteries were recharged while I was on holiday, I decided I ought to start doing the jobs that I’ve been putting off thinking we’d be moving soon. Almost a whole day was taken up with defrosting and cleaning out the fridge-freezer.

I put two books up for sale on Grand Metropolis and one on Amazon. The latter sold immediately so I had to package that up and send it off. The next day another book sold at Green Met so there was another trip to the post office. That was after I’d taken my son out to lunch for his birthday.

I’ve finally got round to calling the windscreen repairers to arrange for them to deal with the chips on my windscreen. And I’ve downloaded the free bus pass applications; sorted out the proof of identity and residence documents needed and photocopied them; and found a passport size photo for mine. I just need to get hold of hubby’s driving licence and photo and that can be sent off.

And all the while I’m anxious about those three sets of year end accounts I should have done by now.

All hubby had to do when we got home was put the emptied suitcase up in the loft, go out to his normal work day after putting on his clean and freshly ironed clothes, and come home later to a home-cooked meal. I know this is the age old cry from a wife, but I have to say it – it just doesn’t seem fair, somehow.