An Explanation. (I think!)

Yesterday, the Grumpster had a clever idea. I was writing yesterday's entry for my blog when some standard family disruption reared it's head (tea/fight/phone call/injury) and I was called away to rescue/prevent/lecture about the situation. It was hours before I got to the computer to finish, and as I came into the dining room where the complicated laptop lives, The Grumpster was sat reading what I had written. Adept as I am at multi-tasking, I simultaneously moaned about my headache whilst harrying him from the desk so that I could finish up quickly and sit on my backside eating crap and watching the TV. At this point, The Grumpster made a suggestion which would save my head from worsening at the same time as securing an early pass to the lounge. (Plus I realised, the opportunity to get to sleep before midnight). Why not leave the blog at the point where I had stopped earlier? Just leave it! Add no more!

Unable to resist an opportunity to abandon anything that requires me to sit upright and think for myself, I positioned the cursor over the box which says 'Publish Post' and left-clicked. It was done, I thought it was a bit rubbish really but I reassured myself that it would have impact if nothing else. I had a fairly good evening, enjoying pink wafer biscuits, a handful of Revels and a cup of tea. I then remembered that my younger son was being evacuated from school the next morning, and spent my 'early night' making labels and gas mask box etc to make him look like a real WW2 child, but I didn't return to my blog and it spent the night incomplete and exposed.

Well, this evening I was summoned through to the dining room by the Grumpster. Now this regularly happens in our house. I will be elbow-deep in washing up water or trapped behind a mound of ironing when I hear my name being called. I will try to avoid rushing too fast, to avoid creating an impression of being eager, and wait until at least the second summons before muttering a stream of whinges and obscenities to myself (purely for my own enjoyment) then shuffle off through the house to see why I am wanted. Nine times out of the proverbial ten, when I arrive at the required destination, I will be greeted by a child who is pinned to the ground by The Grumpster, yelling 'Don't tickle me', to which I am then requested to tickle said child, to the amusement of the ones-who-got-away, before returning to the drudgery from which I had been torn. Most of the time on the other occasions  the summons is issued from the lounge, where, upon my arrival I will be asked to observe on the television one of the many places that The Grumpster has visited with his work. I will be expected to look impressed, give a verbal acknowlegement to clarify that I wish I could go somewhere as wonderful as that, and agree that one day, when we are in a position to leave our own house without arranging a babysitter/packing five peoples' bags/telling unwilling party-members that they have to come with us because we will go to prison if we leave them at home on their own, he and I will go there together. However, nothing could have prepared me for what I was being summoned for this evening.  The Grumpster was sitting at the computer with my blog page open, and there, at the bottom of the page, was a picture of a tiny pencil telling me that I had 3 comments for yesterday's entry!!!

So people are, somehow, reading this bizarre collection of words and even though the comments pertained to the fact that the entry, typically, made no sense at all, (even less given that it was incomplete) I was delighted to see that they wanted to know what the whole thing meant. The Grumpster was even more delighted that he had been mentioned! Winners all round!

So anyway, it now means that I need to inject a little sense into my unfinished post. From memory ( I am too scared to leave this draft and re-read yesterday's post in case this alphabetti-spaghetti of a post is never found again) I had explained that my January blues had been delayed for two reasons, the first being the snow, the second being The Grumpster. I first need to reassure any worried readers that the Christmas decorations are safely in the attic-room with the damp and the things-we-keep-but-never-need, and I had no need to nag for it to be done! ( I have to add that we can't keep things in our loft but instead have a first-floor attic room over the garage room in which we have to store everything. This means that it would be unreasonable to nag The G. to do it as I could just as easily do it myself  due to there being no requirement to pull oneself from a rickety six-foot ladder, up a further five-feet through nothing to a rotten loft hatch as we did in our last home.)

Anyway, I digress. All you want to know (and all I came on here to explain today-still nursing the headache) is why The Grumpster, my husband, is the second reason for me only noticing that we were in the miserable grips of January yesterday. It actually isn't really interesting or even relevant but I will explain (this blog could hardly be described using those adjectives anyway) for anyone with an enquiring mind.  The Grumpster has a job which means he has to go away from home sometimes, and when he does, it is for huge amounts of time. In the last two years he has been away on and off for 19 months, and this means he has accrued a lot of holiday. And he needs to take it. So of all the lovely months of the year, he was allowed to take January off. You know-the month when you have the least money to spend, the least inclination to spend it and the worst weather to not spend it in. So we have been mooching about together for three weeks now, like some kind of extended Christmas without the expectation, popping out to school and back but otherwise pootling about without purpose. And then yesterday, he had to go into work to sort out some complicated work-like issue, and I was left alone with our three-year-old for the first time since mid-December and I didn't know what to do! And January smacked me in the face with full-force. The snow was almost gone, it was drizzling, everyone was back to their normal selves. And it all happened on the same day. Rubbish. Roll on summer!

So now the 'mystery ' is revealed and I should imagine anyone who has spent an unhappy twenty minutes reading through this will be thinking 'is that it?!' and sadly, that is. And for anyone wondering whether we did get more snow, the answer is no. The miseries won. The snow which was ours by rights, forecast for us to enjoy, hung fire until it got further East before treating other people to a fun day.  Glory be! January really is truly miserable!  

My followers three, and anybody else who finds themselves in the awful position of reading this, Take Care, and I will spout a load more rubbish soon. Keep commenting!
Lucy.