Original plan for the weekend, made a few weeks ago: We all go to my parents' farm while my aunties come and use my house for a weekend in Canberra.
Revised plan for weekend, as of last weekend: I stay home and work on Mary Gilmore layout, locked in my study while Aunties have nice time in Canberra. Boys go down to the farm with the cats.
Revised plan for the weekend (Friday morning): Client tells me that he's going away for a week so original deadline has shifted by at least 5 days. DUCKIE PACKS HER BAGS.
I ran away down to Bega and slept. And slept. And read umpteen copies of Women's Day. And slept. And drank copious amounts of red wine. And slept.
Cat damage to farm: 2 lizards (saved and released), one baby red-belly black snake (saved and escaped under and maybe into our car, but not seen again), 1 harassed rooster, and 1 dead bird (head deposited proudly on doorstep). Colonel Duck (my father) cranky with the cats. Cats cranky to be dragged home again.
So now I'm back. From outer space. Looking like a mullet has just slapped me in the face. I should have stay and worked real hard, I should have never had that break, cause now it's hard to get my head into a working kind of space. [music swells]
It was great. And I'm refreshed, I suppose! I don't feel it. It's always dodgy to take your foot off the accelerator halfway through a journey. Still, it was a taste of times to come, and now I can finish the job without falling over.
Huzzar! Couldn't be arsed cooking: hot chook and chips for tea.