I’ve never been great at remembering to engage my brain before speaking. Or at all, really. I think these conversations over the last day or so sum that up quite well:
Himself: Isn’t that plant the weed we pulled out of the gutter?
Me: Yes. But I felt so guilty for making it homeless I gave it a new one.
(It’s pretty though, isn’t it?)
Me: *Looking at the very, very end of the sun setting* The sunsets here are so beautiful. Do you think they were this lovely when we lived in the old house?
Himself: No, I imagine someone improved the sunsets just for us when we moved in here…
Himself: *Fixing a hose winder thingy to the wall* Could you just check you can reach it ok and that you’re happy the bins can fit in the gap next to it?
Me: Yes. *Lifting bin lid scattering all screws, tools and fixings into the gravel (which I saw, but didn’t really see)* Oooopsie
Himself: Well, at least we know that the bin lid opens ok still…
The painter man: *Pointing out the post that’s just been delivered* Um. Who is Princess Pog?’
Me: Oh, that’s me. *opening parcel* Ooooh. It’s llama poo!
The painter man: Right. Anyway, it’s probably time I finished for the day…
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