Tuesday, 22 August 2017

Bedshaped...

Since digging up the potatoes on Sunday, I have been doing a passable impression of Mrs Overall, and kissing my knees is no longer entirely off the agenda.  Not to worry, I'm at Pilates this evening and lovely Alex, with the aid of two spoons, a crowbar and some goose grease, will have me as straight as Larry Grayson in no time.

So yesterday was a very busy one.  I'm having to prepare for my house sitters who are staying here while we are away.  This means sorting out two bedrooms for them.  Why two?  Well, I had decided to give them daughter number two's bedroom as she has her own bathroom which makes lots of sense.  Unfortunately, Percy and Reg also reside here, so if bed space becomes a little thin on the ground, I need to give the house sitters an alternative.  So I'm preparing daughter number one's old bedroom also.

The girls have their own homes now, so this works quite well.  I shudder to think what would have happened if I'd had to offer the boys' bedrooms.  I think I would have had to have them fumigated, decorated and recarpeted before letting a relative stranger see them.

So all this bedroom preparation means washing duvet covers, towels and throws.  My poor washing machine has been on a permanent 40 degree cycle since Monday morning and I have wet clothes and bedding hanging everywhere.  I've taken to answering the phone with 'Chinee Launree' much to my doctor's amusement yesterday. (This was in response to a phone appointment request I made last Thursday.  Since then, I have recovered and had my question answered by Google...)  

Back to the washing though.  This will teach me for saying to the two boys that I wanted all of their holiday clothes for washing before Monday night.  Strange thing is, this time next week, I'll be washing the whole lot again.  Heaven forbid that they might separate the dirty from the clean before we come home...

While the washing machine was between jobs, I decided to get my holiday suitcase out and sort of decide what I was going to take.  It's amazing how the sizes of my clothes differ.  I have shorts ranging from a size 10 to a 16, and dresses which could either be a shift or bodycon, depending on which size I was that year.  Finally whittling it down to several pieces, I hung it all back up in the wardrobe ready to pack.  

Heading back downstairs, feeling rather despondent that a couple of dresses had laughed in my face when I tried them on, I glanced at the duvet covers drying on the stair bannisters.

If only a kingsize with button fastening were acceptable evening wear.

I'd be sorted....