Yukkety Pie.

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Oh Lordy, some days are just rubbish. Our window frame has sprung a leak and it is raining in the living room. The only car keys we have to the hire car (after I crashed ours!) have gone missing and Master Finley denies all knowledge of there whereabouts with a strange smile on his scrumptious face.  Mark is seething. I have period pain. And I swear there isn't a single square of chocalate in the whole house, except for that in my Christmas baskets to which I am pretending does not exist...

So am I flustered? Crawling the walls? Turning the house upside down in a frantic search for the keys, in pink wellys and a Sou'wester? Nope. I am sitting in a puddle in my nightie, wrapping scrumptious little gifts for my polka dotters and considering eating the cooking chocolate in the pantry...

This is officially called being past caring. 

On My Wishlist...