Selfdiscipline Or Distraction?

On Friday evening I asked Fester if he wanted me to turn the radio alarm off this weekend.

“Oh yes!  You forgot when you were away.”

“Not deliberately… anyway it was off when I got home.”

“Yes.  But only after I’d been got up at half seven…I could do without it that time of the morning … I turned the bastard thing around three times trying to find the right knob to press … eventually found a switch that said ‘off’ and that did it.”

It being the weekend, and the alarm being off, I was up two hours later than normal both yesterday and today.

There was nothing in the Facebook Archives yesterday and nothing startling for today.

Yesterday was mostly spent scrolling, which is a thief of time, and catching up on ironing.

This morning I sat down on my office chair, started looking through Memories and thought “No.  You’ll be here for hours if you start and this weather won’t last.”

So I loaded the washer.   

Had a bath and washed my hair.   

Sprayed Domestos foam and Cif all around the bath, and wash-hand-basin.  

As I had it in my hands I sprayed the loo too, filled up the jug that holds the toilet-brush and noticed that the bottle of watered down Domestos was empty.

Got dressed, after cutting my toenails on Fester’s side of the bed where the light is better.

Went back to the bathroom and used the shower to rinse off the bath, and scrubby-rinsed the basin. 

Took the Domestos bottle downstairs for refilling.

Decided the weather was too good not to do some pruning.

Got a pair of sturdy gardening gloves and the large pruning shears out of the garage, cut away one of the main stems of the rambling rose in the fence and dragged it out onto the drive to deal with later.  Pulled down and wound in a lot of skywards heading sprays.

Got a spade out of the garage and pushed the upper levels of the compost heap, all woody prunings, back towards the fence to make more space at the front.

Cut up the rose sprays, saved the larger woody bits to dry for kindling and put the rest on the compost heap.

Went onto the pavement with the secateurs, cut and pulled out as many brambles as I could reach in the front garden, put them on the compost heap too, and did the same in the back.

Pulled up the senesced Rosebay-willow-herb stems from the drive and threw them on the compost heap.

By this time the washer was finished so I put it on for a second spin and had a cup of coffee.  Pegging it out on the line I smiled at a sudden memory of Dad expressing faux outrage at Auntie Raddy Maesgwyn hanging her washing out “on a Sunday morning - and her chapel too!”

I decided that the various secateurs, pruners and loppers should be WD40d before putting away, probably for the winter.  Then I looked at the spades and garden forks, got an old pair of tights as an oily rag and cleaned and WE40d them as well.  I don’t think they’ve been oiled in all the time I’ve known them so they were due a treat.

I turned my attentions to the penthouse and hall toilets: topped up the toilet brush holders which emptied the Domestos bottles ready to bring them into the kitchen; toilet gelled or sprayed the bowls, and sprayed the undersides of the seats.  Back in the kitchen one thick bottle of Domestos was turned into three watered bottles for topping up toilet brush holders; it helps to keep the smell at bay if they’re covered in bleach.

By this time the boys were all back from their various sojourns so I washed my hands and had brunch.

Next I watered the orchids and other houseplants.

I looked at the dishes on the draining-board and surroundings and decided it was time indulge myself a little.

So here I am blogging, later than usual but feeling quite self-satisfied about it.

I’ve not been looking out of the window and have just heard a shout

“Ben!  I’ve just brought the washing in.  It’s damp, but not as wet as if I’d left it out”

Give that man a choc-drop; he’s learning.