Aaaaaaaaaand relax (or alternatively eggs & bread)

But don't go to sleep.  

Because it's only just nearly not quite yet almost midday and there are a billion and one things to do.  That old health visitor chestnut - sleep when they sleep - ha!

I was asked the other day how many blogs I read and I had to bashfully reply with none although I did read your one post.....trails off into silence.   I would love to read more blogs.  In fact I'd love to read more period.  I saw a meme the other day declaring that after work and sleep we have a spare 72 hours a week. Not sure if I completely agree with the math on that one, pretty sure that I get 1 possibly 2 hours an evening if I am super lucky.  Plus if you have time to write memes about how much time you have spare then you obviously have too much time on your hands!

As I sit here, I cannot help but feel like there is something I should be doing.  I mean, I know there are lots of things I could be doing and some of those are probably jostling each other for attention at the top of the should list but I honestly feel like I've forgotten something.  *runs to check baby is actually in cot*  Oooh look at that, a few minutes of wrestling with the English language and now it is definitely midday which means lunch!  My excitement overflows and knows no bounds.  Ooooh fresh bread.   Ooooh eggs.    Ooooh the two together. Mine is a simple life and I wouldn't change it for the world.

I don't want to wash up

Or hoover.  Or do the ironing.  Or clean the high chair, put the washing machine on, flash wipe the floor, do the bottles, review the book I should have already read, put buttons on the cardigan, wrap Father's Day presents or file paperwork.  Or the other million things that are jumping around in the corner of my eye, whispering to me - you should've done me by now, why are you so lazy.  Because I just am and I don't wanna so there.

It's not because I'm adverse to keeping house and it's not because I want to live in grime but sometimes I just don't want to do the things I'm *meant* to be doing.  Usually I come up with some wacky way of getting the jobs jobbed by trying to do them all at once in a weird multi-task way that satisfies my OCD tendencies and drives the dearly beloved mental.  No! I'll shout.  You can't wash that up until this glass that I haven't finished using has been rinsed in super hot water that no human can put their hands in and I'm not ready to finish the drink in this glass because I have to go out for five hours and find the absolute most perfect tea towel.  Actually I'm not quite that bad.  By the barest of smidges.  

The mentality flows over into food too - I want to be healthy, I really do, especially when I need to set a great example for the little man but sometimes I just don't want to be good.  I want to have croissants and hot chocolate for breakfast with extra cream.  A juicy burger with fries and onion rings and a sundae of heart hardening wonder washed down with bone thining aspartamine laden diet coke.  Fresh pasta with ooey gooey cheese sauce and garlic bread or maybe a Chinese buffet of sumptuous beigeness.   My inner child rebels every time my growed up voice says you really ought to be doing your jobs, you really shouldn't eat that, you know you'll only regret it in the morning. Ahhh shurrup.