It's Sunday morning. I can hear two teenagers having a rap war in the kitchen, who can be fastest? Sam was rapping recently and I said, "That sounds like Eminem - he was a poet." Sam was stunned, because guess what, it IS Eminem! When did Eminem come back? They are cooking up a storm, and I'm sipping my coffee and watching Max play Skyrim. He goes to bed early on the weekends, so he can get up early and have the Command Centre all to himself in the mornings.
When I've finished my coffee and my blogging, I'll hop up and clean - the kitchen, currently being trashed by omelette-making boys; the lounge, sprinkled with pine needles and playing cards and sofa cushions; the heap of packaging in the landing which will not fit in the recycling bin but will have to go outside; the boys' landing upstairs which is having a clutter crisis.
I'm aiming to blog every day, again. But not tomorrow, since after work I'll be doing the chauffer/chef thing and then heading out to a volunteer's meeting nearby. We're getting the NCT going again in South Dorset, so if you can give some time get in touch!
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I wish I could do this every day!
From time to time, I get someone to come in and help me do a proper clean. Dusting and polishing, cobwebbing, washing windows. For a freelancer this makes perfect sense. What I pay for two hours of cleaning help pays me back, since it would take me much longer on my own to do it, and I then have that time to do freelance work, which pays me way more.
Chas and Sam are deep in their exams- GCSEs are much more spread out these days, with assessments going on all the time. Sam is battling with chemistry, and all I can give him is a stern talking-to. "I hate chemistry". "It's just math". "Well I hate math". Chas and I revised oral Spanish the other day and passed. Their maths and physics are beyond anything I've ever seen, and apparently my diagram-drawing advice is not as good as Sir's. So I feed them and clean up after them, and they lock themselves in their rooms for epic revision sessions accompanied by Tchaikovsky at full volume. Or Dubstep. Or both, which makes me text them both: TURN IT DOWN!! Because yelling up the stairs is completely ineffectual.