Excuse my tardiness of late – it appears I have actually been living my life rather than just writing about it so the posts have been a little thin. Funny how that happens! But I’m back, from Sydney, and only just back. We snuck off Saturday morning to head to a fabulous 4th birthday party for my niece and then to a Christening for friends that live in NYC who were over here with their newest member of their family. We stayed at Mum’s and had a great time catching up with people, relaxing, eating and drinking. We also celebrated the end (thank GOD) of Masterchef with a fabulous dinner with my little sis and her husband last night. I think I drank too much red wine because my head hurts a little today. I hit the road with the girls this morning and spent an hour getting onto a main freeway out of town. I do not miss Sydney and it’s shitty traffic. Not one bit. Not one little bit.
I got home about an hour ago and instead of just packing down and enjoying the cooler weather I have managed to unpack everything, throw out all the flowers that I had in the house, replace them with all new flowers from the garden, sweep, water the pots, put a load of washing on, DUST almost every surface and have a cup of tea. I am MENTAL. Seriously. I have some kind of mental disorder than has me in a frenzy upon return to my house from anywhere. I need to unpack. I need order. I need things to be nice. And pretty. And orderly. Before I can relax. MENTAL.COM.AU At least the house looks nice though and I can pack down for the afternoon. It’s cold too – it’s back – of course it’s back – so I think I’ll be getting the fire on and a roast chook too. Monday night calls for it I think – just to ease my headache at least…
One last thing, on the trip up to Sydney on Saturday the girls were a little flustered by the time we hit Sydney Saturday afternoon traffic. And it was hot too – a dangerous combination. Harper started talking and said one sentence perfectly. It took us all a little by surprise and it was hilarious too so we all laughed, and so she said it again. And again. And again. It is one of the funniest things I have ever heard, but then again I am mental, so maybe it’s not.
Just remember “It’s not Daisy’s sock. It’s MY sock.”