Lodger

This lodger seems to have taken up residence in the door out to the terrace - she spends the day on the beads, soaking up some sun, then at night lodged up on the widow frame. Safe from anything that might eat her, I guess, and I generally remember to check where she is before I sweep the beads aside on my way out.

When everything gets on top of me, like yesterday, I generally follow the same routine: woe is me, comfort eating, reading through the night, long lie in, lazy day ensuring all chocolate in the house ends up in my stomach, followed by some feelings of guilt at the wasted day, and a return to action on day 2. Today I shortcut the cycle, and was back in action by 10, with almost all of the house supply of chocolate intact.

Some work, of course, plus lots of house and garden stuff. An encouraging call from the Citroen garage, and a rush hour trip to the airport for Mr B. Now waiting for CarbBoy’s training to finish, while Mr B deals with a phone meeting in the car, since bad traffic had us too late to make it home before his call.

Later, I predict a slightly late dinner of whatever I find in the freezer, and some telly. I’m planning to pretend yesterday didn’t happen (except for the good bits).

Tomorrow, France will be at a standstill due to protests. All sporting fixtures seem to be cancelled and the guys who were coming to build my fence may have to postpone. I have stocked up on bread in case we can’t get to the market!