Ella is home sick today, meaning I am spending the day battling work, addiction to myspace and mothering nursely duties.
The house, however, is the real casualty in all this – sometimes I get so down about it I just throw on a pair of ear-muffs, blindfold myself and walk around imagining I’m on a lush beach somewhere in the Caribbean, a place of such beauty that all guests need to be blinded and deafened for fear that exposure to such gorgeousness would be fatal.
Clearly I need help.
I cannot WAIT until Tim is no longer a student and I actually start to earn some decent money from performing (I can almost hear some of you writhing in laughter at that concept) – not for the sake of it, but…okay, stuff it. Here you go, my ‘if we had heaps of money’ dream list:
– a cleaner – a funky nanny who does all the crafty stuff with the kids that I hate – a masseuse (hell, if all of the above fitted into the one neat package all the better) – a beach house in Byron – a pad in New York – Johnny Depp
Okay, okay, now I’m just being silly.
We could never afford a pad in New York.
All I really really want is a cleaner. It’s my dream. Yours?
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