It felt a bit like when I walked The Pilgrim Trail at my place yesterday.
It was cold and relentless, filled with sore muscles and mud. The only things missing were the smell of horses’ piss and farting Frenchmen.
Oh and it all took place in suburban Sydney rather than Spain.
The day was a clusterfark from first light: getting the roof over my deck removed, driving the youngest to AFL training, traffic jams and working like a woman possessed from 7.30am to 10pm.
The nice Yorkshireman who is repairing my roof tiles and replacing my guttering took my manky old corrogated plastic roofing off so I can paint the supporting beams before the new roofing goes on.
And then it absolutely gouted down with rain and water came into the back of the house.
I didn’t notice because I barely had time to breathe, let alone stand up from my computer, due to an insane workload for two upcoming conferences.
The youngest begged me to take her to footy training at 5.30pm due to the awful weather. I am a soft touch and said yes. The traffic was so bad that we were 15 minutes late, which made it impractical for me to go home. So I sat in the carpark and tried to do some work on my phone while she got drenched on the field.
Then I went home to do more work.
I haven’t had enough sleep and I need to be in the city to catch a bus to Parramatta at 7.30am for a day of training for Vivid Sydney.
Something had to give and it’s the brain space to write something vaguely interesting for blog. I may not have time to post anything of merit tomorrow either. Let’s see how I go.
Deep breaths! As DD always says, the only way out is through.
Don’t give up on HouseGoesHome, I promise to write something fun soon.
No time for a song of the day. Seeya!