It Never Rains But It....

Dear Racers

I wanted to leave you a post as I will be away for a few days and will miss two coffee mornings, and wanted you know that I care and haven't dropped out or anything like that.

What a week it has been! Just when I think I've a clear run at thebook everything goes wrong. The husband is away in the states until the day before we go on holiday, which of it's self isn't too bad, because much as I love him I get to watch what I want on TV and have the whole bed to myself. But it turns out that despite my claims to do everything in our lives while all he does is lark about in an office all day, sleep and eat food, actaully I do rely on him rather a lot. When he's not here and things go a bit wrong I realise how much!

My poor mum was admitted to hospital on Monday with a serious (but not life threatening) infection, on the way to visit her in the pouring rain my windscreen wipers packed up completely and the garage assures me it's nothing so cheap or as simple as a fuse, so I'm looking forward to that bill. The washing machine finally gave up the ghost mid cycle, flooding the floor, and now I'm hoping there's one at the holiday cottage because so far we're taking a suitcase of dirty clothes (a suitcase I can't reach by the way, jammed as it is on the other side of the garage that is full of furniture, I'd need a mountaineering kit and a Sherpa guide to get to it), The dog is pining for my husband and not eating anything except for the chocolate she stole out of my handbag. She lies around looking at the backdoor and sighing and won't talk to me at all.

And then there is the spider. The giant spider the size of a dinner plate (practically) that decided to move in to our house yesterday. Both myself and my five year old are brave and gusty people but we are not spider people. We are the sort of people who can neither kill a spider, pick it up and put it out of the window or ignore it and go about our lives as normal. It turned up last night on the landing, and it still just sitting there now. You know that at any minute it's going to scuttle somewhere with it's horrid little legs tip tapping on the floor, and do something profoundly evil like eat a woodlouse or ....make a web.

And don't try telling me that IT is more afraid of ME than I am of IT. OK, I know spiders in the UK are not known for being lethal, but that's not the point. The point is I can feel it looking at me with its eight beady eyes sizing me up. Under normal circumstances the dog would eat it. But the dog is pining and the spider is not chocolate.

The long shot is that although I have still made progress this week it's not been as nearly as much as I wanted. Which has taught me two things. You can plan to write but you can't plan for life AND husbands are good for more things than lawn mowing and putting out the rubbish. Who knew?