Continuing into 2007 without any New Year resolutions, I guess one year merely carries on to the next. Scleroderma aside and all the problems along with it, I wonder what life has in store for me in the following months. One thing is for certain, 2006 wasn't all that bad. It wasn't a vintage year nor was it anything to archive as a memorable era, but at least I got through it without the dreaded hospital stays.
Finally in a house, albeit unfinished, and enjoying a huge amount of space to lounge around like the proverbial lizard. I feel as though I've waited my entire life for such a moment, a roaring log fire, new LCD TV -- unplanned! Soon taking delivery of a new washing machine, also unplanned, it's like starting over again!
The evenings spent in front of a warm fire is pure utopia and if the ghosts want to join us they can as long as they bring no cold chill.
My geese defected to the other farm and refuse to come back-- scared of crossing the river, pardon me but they do have webbed feet and I've never heard of a goose being afraid of water! Mine obviously became too set in luxury but at least the postman is happy, he actually whistles up the drive instead of tip toeing like he usually does. The dog seems far more relaxed and the amount of poo about the place has definitely not been missed. I'm sorry to say that they can stay on the other side of the river, my new carpet is clean and I'd like it to stay that way!
I lost a grand total of 4lbs over the festive period, not bad when you consider that most people will be trying to lose the extra pounds put on by over indulgence -- I'm trying to gain before I slip down the drain. I'm 124lbs. My daughter helps me in the clothing department. I can wear almost all of her clothes and I don't mind how much she spends on them. My hubby would have a fit if I splashed out so much on a jacket or new pants, somehow he doesn't mind my 15, soon to be 16, year old daughter spending her dosh on new clothes. My method is simple --- I have her hand me downs and I end up the most fashionable middle aged mum this side of the UK. Okay, I'm a Chav as they say-- who cares.
What's for dinner is the cry from downstairs, back to reality. Whatever takes their fancy, I'm only the cook.