Last night after I put the girls to bed, instead of my usual flump into the sofa I spent an hour tidying up, finishing the washing up, setting a load of laundry to start in the morning, and hoovering and mopping through the house. You can bet I was pleased with myself this morning.
It's a practice I always say I'll do, putting the house, and especially the kitchen to bed, but more often than not I justify the evening down time, and tell myself that I both need and deserve it. I have earned the right to sit and veg out on the sofa for an hour or two. While some night that might be exactly what's in order, I'm not sure if that's something I even especially enjoy doing, and my expanding figure would agree that I could be a bit less sedentary.
It's a beautiful breezy Swansea day here today, and though I'm sure it won't last, I got my laundry out quickly and am hoping I can convince the girls that another dump run would be the ticket. We can pack some leftover pizza and cake and have a visit to the park after.
Today I am wearing a rather violent bit of double crochet. Every now and then I remember the constant scrutiny and (usually) gentle mocking that I felt in Cwmgors, and I feel relief. I do not stick out here. Or I don't think I do.
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