The Mrs wrote me a stern list of the jobs I must do before I leave for Greece. It does not matter that it is raining cats and dogs, today was my deadline. As such I now sit drenched from head to toe having done as ordered. I trust that she is reading this and feeling guilty.
The patch between our house and the garage, where I have now been sent to work, is the garden. It is where I smoke and where the cats do “their business” when not doing it on the front doormat. My tasks, tidy up all signs of smoking and all cat shit and bury the latter. Occasionally a butt is mixed with cat shit but generally they are two distinct tasks. Neither pleasant.
But they are off the check list. Next up… merging our diaries until October to make plans. At least that will allow myself and the computer a temporary respite from life in the garage.