Pinterest. Ah New Girl, how I love you.
I'm just writing to let you know that this blog will be very quiet during the month of March. (Yes, in stark contrast to my usual bi-hourly updates full of my own photographs and witty anecdotes - I wish.) In fact, the only reason to why I have time to write this is because I was starving and had to have some lunch and now while cleaning up I've realised that in half an hour Steve's nieces are arriving and half an hour is how long it takes me to even get into an efficient studying mode, so there's no point in opening my books. For the record, this is my own fault. Nobody told me to mind the girls today, but I knew that their granny (Steve's mom - are you following this?) has been working extra night shifts and is probably exhausted so I told her to bring the girls to my house instead. When they leave I have to wrap a gift and then be ready to leave the house for a quick birthday visit, then get home and make dinner before I get back to studying.
That's the reason why I'm busy today. The reason why I'm busy every other day is because within the next seven days I have three university deadlines looming over me, a late Christmas dinner to attend, a "welcome home" excursion in Belfast and a Mother's Day lunch (not for my mother, I might add). I can't get out of either of these because I'm being emotionally blackmailed. And this is what every single week now looks like throughout March with the added bonus of my thesis that needs to be in by 25th. Which I only yesterday got my last set of data for. I cannot deal with having social events to attend to when I'm under stress, I don't have time for clean hair and ironed clothes.
Oh, and let's just remember that this diet kicked in yesterday and whilst I wasn't going to follow it more than half-heartedly to support Steve I weighed myself last night and I'm basically half a stone heavier than my regular weight so now I do feel like I have to make an effort and only eat healthy food for the next few weeks. Healthy food = more time spent on preparation. Time is what I don't have. I have decided to strip Steve of his usual luxury to partly solve that issue: Can you believe that if I'm home earlier than him I nearly always make him dinner? Mainly because he leaves the house at 8am and comes home at 6pm five days a week and my schedule never looks that bad, but still. I feel like I'm reverting back to a housewife in the 1950s. Any day now I'll do my hair even if I'm just staying in so that "my man has something pretty to look at". However, those days are gone (in March at least) and from now on we'll help making dinner at 6pm when he gets home.
Half hour is up. I hope to see you again before the end of March.