As I predicted on Monday, it has indeed been a long week.
Trying to run a business from the 'front room' in the temporary absence of our office, has been something of a trial.
Small Dog has put us both on notice, that if we don't get things sorted out quick smart she will be packing all her worldly goods into a spotted handkerchief tied to a stick and setting out to find fame and fortune elsewhere.
On the plus side, PP did today manage to complete the painting in the office, so tomorrow we will take up the old carpet, hoping that no terrors lie in wait underneath. All being well, we can then order the new flooring.
It's just as well that the end is in sight as we are both flagging. PP has developed housemaid's knee and tennis elbow and I am in meltdown at the prospect of an impending, immovable deadline.
Plus I could murder a Mars Bar.
Or indeed any chocolate.
But under the terms of our 'non-resolutional' regime, all I have to look forward to is prunes with low-fat custard.
Buggrit.
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