There is a strange affliction that exists in our household. Two, perfectly reasonable, adults go to bed and by the stroke of midnight, or some other ungodly hour, something that needs investigating wakens us up. Usually crying kids or, god forbid, dogs. Cue an exchange of gentle prods from one another, that increasingly become more forceful, before a volley of profanities ensues as to why the other should go. We call it nocturnal tourettes. How two mild(ish) mannered individuals can so quickly degenerate into foul mouthed zombies is a complete mystery. Miraculously, by morning we are back to our normal selves if not slightly wild eyed and supporting faint bruising to the back of the legs.
Last night’s ‘distraction’ was mice. We knew we had a problem when yesterday I shook a pair of thermal leggings in D’s face in order for him to access if they were thick enough and a tiny, perfectly formed, mouse poo fell onto the pristine white sheets. YUCK.
It turns out a large catholic sized family of mice has moved into our house. I don’t blame them, our house is lovely. Nonetheless, traps set and baited we went about serving an eviction notice. The long and short being that D ended up in the loft at 4.00am in boxers and a headtorch helping one of the poor little critters out of its misery.
But alas, even with a lack of sleep, nothing can dampen my spirits today. Kids cheerfully marched into nursery this morning -I think they were happy to see the back of me – and I have eight glorious hours ahead of me to fill as I please. What to do? I should really unearth my desk and study material from beneath the pile of ‘stuff’ that has accumulated during the festives. Or, I could finish painting the bottom half of the kitchen white; in an attempt to play an optical illusion on the amount of light coming in from the North facing windows. I will report in due course the success of that particular experiment. I may even head into town to buy the Hague Blue paint that is definately ‘THE’ colour for the bookcase and anything else I see fit (at least two dining chairs are not safe). Ahh, decisions. First though another coffee and a flick through the lastes issue of Homes & Gardens to inspire and motivate.