I forgot to take a picture of my rampaging devilings in the garden this morning hunting for their bounty from The Easter Bunny, so I took a picture of the old measuring jugful of little coloured choccy eggs in the fridge later on. It's next to a couple of other half-eaten bigger ones and a carton of actual hens' bottoms eggs. And this was about it for the whole fridge's contents. Wot wiv all this packing lark melting our sentient abilities, neither Mr Roving Blade or I had remembered to go shopping for the past few days. So not for us the half a pig or a whole salmon resting on a bed of spring vegetables followed by a selection of chilled naughties like in them ads on telly. Mr R B and Minx set out with bows and arrows to ensnare something for the pot. The garage was open so at least they could grab some toilet roll and more bin liners (essential for moving house).
I'm lucky that Mr R B is jolly clever at rustling up edible things from seemingly bare cupboards and the unpalatable tat one can drag from a garage shelf. Left to me we'd just finish off the chocolate stuff. Well, I had a go.
But to blow my own dented trumpet for a moment, it is a testament to my homely talents that the house has turned to utter shit while I'm busy trying to stuff a 4-bedroom house into a couple of boxes. Not just the usual shit state. It is inhuman. This proves that I must normally keep pathways of access through the filth as, now my attention has focused on the insides of brown cardboard, the rest of the house is trying to swallow us up.
But I'm not doing very well at whittling down our clutter. Well - I've filled umpteen black sacks with STUFF but seem to just uncover MORE STUFF. How does this work? Like trying to dig my way out of a pirate's sand necktie (like I saw on Mythbusters on Discovery earlier today) - not that I was shirking mind. I can flick through a set of A - Z Technology, A - Z Maths.... with one eye and swivel the other onto someone being buried alive for our viewing pleasure without any noticeable halt in my proceedings. In fact I thought I'd cracked this Home Ed book collection lark. Out went Religions of the World. Away went Natures Great Events. Along with half the Usborne Spotters Guides only listing pondlife curiosities Not Found In Britain. But just as I think I've cleared an escape hole, it fills back up again and I am once again immobilised. Up to the choker.
And I haven't even peeked inside the painting, modelling, collaging (what?), drawing, things to make things out of.. baskets yet. Gods help me!
It won't be the dis-engagement of broadband that'll be responsible for weeks of silence. I'm taping myself into a large box with a big sticker on the outside: Do Not Open Until Xmas.
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Just leaving a narrow slit for pizza delivery. Don't want to be having any Blue Peter and a stiff tortoise moment. Crack of dawn Easter Bunny-a-lympics dun nearly knock me out as it is. Will sleep well tonight. In my box. Always will revert to my slow-paced shell-clad self eventually. The bunny may bring the sugar rush, but doesn't the sneaky-pants win in the end?
Wake me up in time for The Wizard of Oz.