We can’t seem to crack it

My addictive personality has led me down some odd paths over the years.

As I child. I voraciously collected postage stamps and matchboxes and inhaled books at lightning speed. The teachers found it hard to believe I could get through so many books each MS Read-a-thon, but I was a machine.

As teenager, most waking moments were devoted to imagining elaborate scenarios where I became Neil Finn’s girlfriend, plotting ways to get into over-18s gigs and wearing a black armband for weeks when Split Enz broke up.

Actually, maybe that one is normal teenage girl behaviour … except for the armband.

When I became a mum, I obsessively amassed vast collections of Polly Pocket and Playmobil animals  … regardless of whether my children shared my addiction.

I’m embarrassed to think how much I spent on all those bits of plastic. It’s all sitting in boxes in the garage, waiting for my grandchildren. Actually, I should probably toss the Polly stuff, those teeny tiny rubber dresses and shoes will start deteriorating soon.

Over the past few days, I’ve barely raised my head from http://www.thesaurus.com.

DD and I can’t crack the name for his blog site we’re launching.

Our last texts to each other before we went to sleep on Saturday night were site suggestions, as were our first texts to each other on Sunday morning.

We spent the whole of Saturday afternoon tossing ideas back and forth.

It was too windy to swim, so we toured his local beach car parks instead, pulling up to alternately gaze at the sea and bandy names about.

I was even tapping words into my search bar between tracks at pump class on Sunday morning.

When I gave the eldest a lift to the train station, I was so preoccupied that I drove straight past the entrance, looped around the block and started heading home again without dropping them off.

It’s getting a bit ridiculous.

Must. Stop.

Can’t. Stop.

Aside from constantly hitting the thesaurus, my weekend was oddly quiet and uneventful.

I cooked schnitzel and watched a bit of Battlestar Galactica with the eldest on Saturday night, went for a walk with my sister on Sunday morning, visited DD’s mum on Sunday arvo and enjoyed a Thai dinner with a few friends last night.

Very chill, aside from the compulsive Googling.

I could do with a few extra days rest. I spent Saturday convinced I was coming down with the flu because I felt so woozy, but I think it was exhaustion.

It has been a huge few months in the Household.

I’ve been dreaming about running away to a new Queensland glamping resort that’s just opened: Wilson Island. It’s 15km off Heron Island and looks totally divine. While I’m not enamoured with the idea of a share bathroom, the thought of simply snorkelling and snoozing for a few days is VERY appealing.

But those adenoids aren’t paying for themselves, so another frantic week in suburbia looms instead. Actually, I’d better get cracking – there’s a load of washing in the machine that needs drying for the youngest to collect at 8am. It was dropped on my doorstep last night because her dad’s laundry is apparently out of action.

Yawn.

Hope your weekend was a good ‘un.

Song of the day: Marilyn “Calling your name”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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