Mo Nuacht

So work is freakin' mental at the minute as we approach year end and everyone frantically tries to sort out all the crap they should have attended to months ago. I wouldn't give a toss except that usually "crap they should have attended to months ago" often translates into "stuff I should have given Lyndar months ago and now I expect her to sort it yesterday". The upshot is that I am permanently cross and knackered and in no humour to do any present shopping, wrapping or card writing let alone any of the cleaning, tidying or decorating that I had promised myself I'd have organised by Christmas. [With a week to go, I've decided it's ok to use the word itself without an asterisk in sight.]

I am still wearing my lopsided purple glasses despite hours spent scouring opticians; to add insult to injury the right lens is scratched to bits so it's like I'm permanently looking at the world through a fingerprint on the glass or something. Fuzz-eeeeee.

Last weekend was a good one at least: I'd my work Do on Thursday night, off Friday, got to IKEA in Belfast on Saturday, and then got the Christmas tree bought and decorated on Sunday. Mostly I decorated the tree, much to the amusement of Himself's sister who seems to be under the impression that I'm a complete control freak. Which I'm not. Sure didn't I let Himself hang one of the baubles wherever he wanted? And I haven't moved it.

Yet.