Every time I work a day shift, I get all optimistic that when I get home, I’ll get heaps of stuff done. Maybe some exercise. Maybe a bit of extra housework. Maybe a bit of gardening, because it’s veeeeery overdue.
The theory is solid…
Yet, here I am, ugg boots on, demolishing a tin of pringles, and coming to the realisation that, yeah, that stuff simply isn’t going to be happening today.
Dinner got cooked, everyone is upright and breathing, and I’m eating pringles.
Can’t help but feel like I’m winning at life.