Monday, Tuesday & the Mean Reds

Today I feel as though someone has their giant hands on either side of my head & is pressing as hard as they can.

Daytime yesterday involved trapesing around, looking at potential future homes, only to reach the conclusion that we are more uncertain & actually still have no conclusion - just more wondering about what this week will hold.

Yesterday evening began with me setting the cooker alight whilst cooking Yorkshire Puds.

This was followed with a takeaway & an early night.

Early night was cut short when floods of anxious, hormone-induced tears broke forth for no one reason in particular.

Long-awaited sleep was then interrupted by Daughter crying for no reason, other than much-sought after attention. Again, & again & again...

I greeted the morning with puffy eyes & sluggishness.

Today, the day is rescued by Daughter & her charm:

Daughter's dog (in reality a stuffed crocodile) is called Hiffy & apparently likes to smell Mummy's feet. Hiffy's friend - a police dog (in reality a stuffed hippo) - is called Jemmy, though Daughter declares that she "calls him Jemmald all the time". Neither Hiffy nor Jemmald are very good at putting their chins up when they are required to do so. They are also both "rum-sticks". Hiffy & Jemmald are both twice the size of daughter & this makes for great comedy stylings when she attempts to pick them both up.

Yesterday, I should add, was saved by the loving embrace of my man.

Bring on normality. Preganacy & vagrancy are tiring.