Angel Jem's City Cottage

When I changed my name (well, blog name, really) to the Domestic competent that was what I intended to be; competent, no more no less. Well a little less if necessary. OK a lot less than competent. Like I need to do the washing before I am backed out of my own kitchen by the pile. I need to get something to eat ready to heat for 6 o'clock. I need ...... But I have a Sickie Mickie who is lying on the settee and feeling very sorry, a little princess fresh from a party high on sugar and crafts and another one who needs a hand to cut straight because "I'm making you a set of Dino cards Mummy, so you can start collecting...." The washing will wait.

Work is a four letter word. No, not really. well, yes, really, obviously it is, but not in the wash-your-mouth-out with soap way. Actually, I met someone today who really did that to her child when she swore (well, it was f*****g, which is pretty bad for a three year old) and now has soap words rather than swear words. Do I laugh, look incredulous or simply report her for cruelty? But work.... that insidious, time hungry, stop me puting and puttering, send me into spins of efficiency work..... that work has kept me from reading let alone writing for a month. Yes, the money is useful and, yes, I am facing two weeks off without that horrible oh-God-what-can-we-do-for-nothing feeling which is nice, but...... I worked all bar 2 afternoons last week and I enjoyed it. I also did all my washing, cleaned my house and made some more of a ripple blanket that, without work, would be crawling along. Efficiency and priorities, you see. But I kind of feel that I am not talking to my friends. Like a...