My significant other, herewith Mr ShoeThatAlwaysFits, has been away adventuring for nearly 2 weeks and he’s due home tomorrow – hooray. I can’t wait to see him, but I do have a lot to do before he gets back. He likes tidiness, order and serenity – I’m on the chaotic side of the organised spectrum.
In short, stuff needs doing.
The cupboards are bare, the ironing pile is taller than I am, and socks to do not pair themselves. But it’s fine, I have a plan – and if the plan fails, I have gin.
- Tidy away jewellery (currently abandoned on kitchen worktop)
- File paperwork
- Start ironing tonight
- Drink gin (as a reward)
- Wash up
- Pair socks
- Another bout of ironing
- Go to supermarket
- Finish ironing
On his arrival, I can then squeal with excitement and give him a huge hug whilst simultaneously emitting an air of nonchalance.
This is a good plan in theory. I hope I complete the tasks in order, I have been known to head straight to gin o’ clock. Then all I have is a sheepish smile and some devilish dimples.
Its 11.15pm – I have achieved number 1, sorted out the ironing pile, and am about to start pairing socks. I avoided gin and chose to workout instead.