All I want for Christmas, and I really don’t think it is too much to ask, is for a little pet elf who is skilled in the art of keeping abreast of generic life admin. In return I could promise a good home, plenty of love and oodles of appreciation.
Life, as I imagine it with said elf, would be a breeze. I would not find out that my road tax expired two weeks ago because I hadn’t had time to open my post, or forget to buy bin bags on the way home, or order new contact lenses, or….okay, let’s not go down the mile-long ‘to do list’, you get the idea. This evening I’m pretty sure to an observer I would have resembled the insane woman from ‘There’s something about Mary’ – you know the one who manically cleans her house after taking inordinate amounts of speed.
I don’t know how the multi-tasking Mothers of this world do it. I would prefer to sit in my pyjamas drinking gin in the evenings but apparently that is not deemed socially acceptable, and let’s face it, nothing good ever came from drinking gin.
Anyway, it’s late. I’ll be back tomorrow, or maybe when I’ve found a rare breed of pixie, infamous for his observational skills and blogging expertise, who can write these entries for me.