I know what your game is

Oh, Monday – what is it with you? I am coming to realise that you are simply peevish. I should have realised last night, when I did the bins and put the rubbish out in order to get a head start on my week, that you would be observing. I really ought to have expected that you would be earwigging when I told Mr L that he really must wake me up on a morning and that I want to be up and working much earlier than of late.

So, I really should not have been at all surprised to wake at 5:30 am and find that the power supply was off, should I?

Nice one, Monday – in one stroke you get to delight me with a return to bed and a snug little cuddle and snooze once the early-morning chores were done; yet at the same time scupper all plans and possibilities for any real work. You know I cannot function without a cup of tea and a shower. You know work cannot begin for the day if the computers cannot be booted up.

Oh, and the little trick with the non-firing Rayburn? Nice touch. I like subtlety.

Well, I am all behind now, and my hair is dripping wet from my late shower but I’ll show you who is boss. Work shall be done, lasagne will appear as though by magic on the lunch table and I shall return here with knitting content and photos. See? Take that, Monday!

And choke on it.

Recently, at the: Crooked House

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