Uuuurgh. I’m surrounded by the stuff and I’m convinced some of it has migrated up my legs (from my muddy feet, you understand) and into my ears and thence into my brain… Perhaps it’s mud, perhaps it’s germs, but whatever the reason I am feeling saggy and soggy and very, very tired. All I really want to do is to curl up in a chair and read a book while stuffing my face with the gorgeous dark chocolates with cream centres that I bought last weekend in Sydney (where we went to see AC/DC, did I mention?).

I do not, repeat do NOT, want to do any actual work. Or washing. Or ironing. Or cleaning. Or thinking. About anything.

One thought on “Mud

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