Evil, evil

We do try our best, you know.

Son#3 anxiously gives incessant kisses as soon as he senses anger building in me.

Son#2 gets up angry, gets dressed angry  goes to school angry... you get my drift, don't you?

Son#3 is pubescent: how dare we tell him that you can't wear shorts when it's 10 degrees outside??

And you have to actually STUDY for tests?!?!

Preposterous!!

The husband struggles with a gazillion to-do lists.

And I just struggle.

Period.

Meanwhile, we are preparing for the summer holiday.

We are exchanging homes with a family in Bretagne, which means effectively, that it is FREE.

Being cheapskates, this appeals to us greatly.

A social utopian match made in heaven.

The exchange economy rocks.

But it does mean that we have to actually CLEAN the house, shuffling shit into my art studio where it will be out of sight.

And then there is work which doesn't go with physical pain and increasing stiffness.

I, dear reader, am turning into an ironing board.

Who would have guessed?

.