A dog-loving friend of mine posted this on her FB page the other day and it really struck a chord with me....
Today I am taking a break from the despised soft-cleaning to tackle the even more hated annual accounts.
Or I should be.
I keep wandering into the dining room, surveying the big box which contains all of my 2017-18 paperwork, sighing deeply, then wandering back out again. I have made half-hearted attempts to tidy up in the workroom, until my conscience forced me to do something useful.
ANYTHING!
So I printed out a set of labels and stuck them onto envelopes which will contain the month-by-month expenses and receipts. However, far from being buoyed by this admittedly paltry progress, I felt annoyed at my lack of anything approaching progress.
So I have decided that what I REALLY need is a growlery.
Scene: Sandra is dallying from room to room, trying to find something to do, nominally more urgent than starting the annual accounts. A small, but menacing growl, alerts her to the presence of Small Dog, who has deserted her customary spot in the office and is standing in the sitting room doorway.
SD: *self importantly* Whott is this rubish abowt yue kneading a growllury?
Me: *dramatically... throwing myself down on the sofa* It's my restless, questing spirit SD. I am out of sorts and in an ill humour. I need somewhere quiet and soothing to restore my equilibrium.
SD: *derisively* Eckwillibryum? Bollox....Yue knead to wooman upp and just gett on with itt. Growllury indeeed.
*warming to her theme* If eniwun in this hows kneads a growllury itts ME!
Alsew.... beein orl dramatick and kollapsen on the sofar is MY job. Yue ar the karm and kollektid wun!
Me:*tremulously* Oh... but SD.... I am stricken. It's the accounts you know. I simply can't go on..... *sobs into cushion*
SD:*suspiciously* Yure taken the pis.. arrnt yue. Maken fun of me jusst becoss ai am sensitif and hav phyner pheelens. Itts mai artistick tempramint as wel yue kno.
Me:*thoughtfully* Well, yes. Of course. You are indeed the Sarah Bernhardt of the doggy world.
SD:*preening* Ai shal taik thatt as a komplimint!
Me: As you wish SD. As you wish....
Fin
As penance for being such a sybarite for the duration of my birthday week, I'm atoning by tackling two of the most despised and unpleasant business-related tasks.... our annual accounts and a mega batch of soft cleaning.
Of the two, the soft cleaning is infinitely preferable, despite it causing me to lose the will to live. I started yesterday.... possibly the coldest, most miserable April day in the history of ever, so I was on a hiding to nothing right from the get-go.
Oh it all starts well enough. Nice hot water for the soft-cleaning bit, the initial enthusiasm for tackling a very necessary task, the determination to see it though and do the best job possible.
But after a while, the nice hot water goes lukewarm, then tepid, and because it happens so gradually I don't really notice until I stop for a break and suddenly realise that my hands are FREEZING COLD!
And husky.
As in 'dessicated husk' not the dog or the smouldering sexy voice.
*Interlude*
Scene: Sandra is at her laptop, composing a long overdue blog post about the vagaries and discomforts of soft-cleaning. She becomes aware of a small, furry presence staring intently at the laptop screen.
Small Dog: *emphatically* Butt... ai DO absewlootlie hav a smolldurring secksy vois.
Me:*dismissively* Not when you're barking your silly head off up the garden you haven't.
SD: *suspiciously* And whotts this abowt a husckie. Hav yue bean konsorten with uthr dogs. Ai hav warrnd yue befour abowt thatt.....
Me: *mollifyingly* I most certainly have not been consorting with other dogs SD....Oh light of my life.
SD:*unmollified* Harrumph.... ai am knott so shure. Yue oftin kum hoam smellen of strainj dogs. Ai am knott stewpid yue kno.
Me: Perish the thought SD. You are my only and bestest dog in the world.
SD: *settling back down in her basket* Hmmm. Yess.... gude thing too!
So, anyway.... soft cleaning. Horrid job *shudder*
Annual accounts *sigh* also a horrid job, involving a tsunami of receipts and invoices which all have to be inspected and corralled into envelopes then all the numbers are laboriously entered into my 'idiot-proof' Excel spreadsheeet and jiggled until they all add up.
It generally takes an entire day just to get organised to do it... necessitating clearing off the dining table so that I can spread everything out into neat piles, remembering to leave a clear space so that I can repeatedly bang my head on it when the figures refuse to reconcile, which is a depressingly regular occurrence.
So yes... my week is shaping up just fine and dandy thanks.
