Peace Descends

It's 9.20am, Friday morning, and for the first time in almost seven weeks, I'm alone in a silent house.

School starts today. There is the usual mad scramble to get ready -- lunchboxes to fill with delicious (but also healthy!) treats, drink bottles to find and label, hats to scrape free of bird poo (don't ask), frocks to discard because they've mysteriously grown too short (if only I was one of those mothers who organises these things before the last minute), breakfasts to reject, shoes to buckle, hair to plait, teeth to brush, school bags to pack. In between I shower and dress myself, gulp down a coffee, put on a load of washing, unpack the dishwasher, help Evie to find a "special thing" to bring in for the first day, reassure Alice that her beloved teacher will probably be there, even if it is a Friday...

So we set off. Through the rain. Of course, it's raining.

And now I'm home, and all the work that I've been putting off for the last six weeks looms before me. A manuscript, mid-copy edit, lies beside my bed. A list of unanswered emails from before Christmas (gulp) sits in my inbox. Ideas about Independence jostle in my head, imploring to be jotted down before I forget them. And there are still floors to vacuum, washing to be dried, a lizard to be fed, beds to make, a dolls-clothes factory to be tidied away, and I need to write something for the school newsletter about the library... and I really want to get some yoga in...

In fact, the very last thing I should be doing, the one thing that doesn't need to be done, is blogging!

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