My post writing of late has been as slack as the elastic in my oldest pair of undies.
Each day I think "I should write a post" … followed shortly by … "Nah, nothing's happened".
Now the fatal flaw in this scenario is that nothing EVER happens … and if I'm waiting for a momentous event to get my creative juices flowing then I might as well package myself up as dried fruit right now.
So here follows a mundane and trivial composition about nothing much at all.
The boys … by "boys" I refer to the Hubby and the Sons … the boys headed off to the footy on Friday night. An event from which I have been banned … I am unallowed to attend … ever again.
You see I came up with a startling theory. I realised that whenever I go to the football the Sydney Swans lose … and whenever I stay home they win. Every single time. Once I pointed out this uncanny coincidence to the "boys" I was blacklisted.
It's actually been quite useful and I've been using it to my best advantage … "Since I'm not allowed to go to the footy you'd better buy me a takeaway before you leave" …. "Since I'm not allowed to go to the footy you'd better give me a foot rub" … "Since I'm not allowed to go to the footy you'd better come with me to *insert somewhere they find highly tedious* and not complain".
Of course the truth of the situation is that this way I can watch it on TV if I feel like it … and watch something else entirely if I feel like it … and either way I can do it from the couch in my PJ's. Win!
Here's a little pic from back in the day … before I became the Sydney Swans own personal jinx.
Saturday was a lazy day … with the highlight being the momentous first fire of the season.
Burn baby burn.
Which of course involves the requisite toe toasting.
I may have casually mentioned the impending Sunday event of Mother's Day to Master 14.
This may have resulted in a panicked look in his eye and a sudden request for a lift to the supermarket for some "milk" … though surprisingly there were already 3 litres of the stuff in the fridge.
The last minute dash was clearly unsuccessful … instead of a card I got a picture printed from the computer.
And a sentiment that beats anything Hallmark can come up with.
So I'll end this trivial little tale with something pretty from my garden.
And a picture of some fried chicken.
Go on … you had to look twice … didn't you?
Maybe that was just me.