|If you have shown one of these sets of inks on your desk in the last 2 months, my acquisition of them is entirely a matter for your conscience. You made me.|
Tomorrow is Crop day. Open to all, pot luck lunch, hall costs split between us. Democracy has never been so crafty. Normally, at this point before a crop, I'm whining to you about getting ready and packing and needing daylight for paper and photo matching and blah blah blah. Well, no new leaves promised, but look, I'm ready. Apart from the food, which of course is best prepared in the morning. I'm ready because I got in a panic and got out of bed at a ridiculous time this morning to do things that needed doing before I got my own stuff ready. That is, everyday the priorities are everything else. I sit at my desk to erm, create, when I've finished chores, proper work and whatevers. So it's no wonder that I have so little time to get ready for crop. That and it's such agony that I can easily put it off. I was explaining this dilemma to Mr Dunnit at lunch time, over business letters and assorted dull agenda items. His overview was valuable. His logic was a bit embarrassing, because it was obvious really. He suggested I get ready for Crop first, and do everything else afterwards. Well you see, that's alright for him to say. He doesn't wear guilt like a cloak. Oh and I do, I do I do. Guilt over not doing enough before I do my own thing. The very phrase 'Me time' is a guilt trigger. Which considering that I'm going to be out of the house enjoying a Crop all day tomorrow is rather a strange thing. I feel no guilt over that. It's sort of because I'm at home and not being a wholesome mother and housewife. Remove me from the house to do such lovely things and I'm OK. Which is why I can shop without toooo much guilt, as you see above. I must ask Martha Stewart if guilt ever features in her life. No...no, I mean hormonal, woman guilt, not legal-go-to-jail sort of guilt. We know about that.