WHAT THE HECK HAPPENED?

It is my belief dear imaginary readers that no one would ever describe me as the life of the party. That said back in the day, when I knew exactly who I was I could hold my own in conversation, laughs; you know the basic skills of having fun while living. Then came work, kids and the basic skills of living with the odd flash of fun thrown in. And when work was gone the kids were gone and the flashes of fun became trickles of fun. Progressive fun equals backward steps for me WOOT! In March I hit rock bottom.

The love of my immediate life flew off to Halifax to begin what I was sure would be an epic road trip home with the baby girl. She would soon begin an external placement with The Get Real Movement, then graduation and then adulting for her (please). I had approximately 36 hours to myself, allllllll alone, ok, just me and Oli. Ok, honest, just me , my dog and some red wine. Back to the task at hand, I had plans - filing, tax prep, ironing, catching up on Grey’s exciting stuff.

I returned home after dropping my man at the GO station, grabbed a coffee and assumed my position at my perch, what ambition I had earlier had vanished. Candy Crush, chatting with the kids and the dog (yes the dog)...nothing was motivating me. I wasn’t feeling any zing to just do Jill - then I opened an email that showed that the replacement hose for my vacuum had been shipped. I followed the tracking number, et voila! It read DELIVERED!

The pup and I basically trotted to the mailbox at the end of the driveway, where we found pay dirt! Not only was my hose there, but low and behold so was the Touch of Orange wood cleaner I had ordered. Oli had done his thing so we both turned back towards the house, he with his tail straight up in the air and a prance in his step. Me with a smile on my face while thinking of the mission to be accomplished.

Rock bottom, 36 hours alone and I was excited by new cleaning equipment. It was time to get a life...or open a bottle of red. It is spring, so I guess its ok to be excited about spring cleaning right dear imaginary readers?