Don'tspeak...

How is isolation going for you all then?  As I begin week three, the husband (who is just about to complete his first week), I'm learning things about myself and also the dearly beloved...

Working from home isn't all it's cracked up to be.  When I am working at Binland under normal conditions, I have to leave my desk at a sensible time as the two woofers will be waiting by the door with their legs crossed.  At home though, there is no time restrictions.  I can work all day and night if I want to.  The husband is pretty good at curtailing my attempt to save the world though.  This usually involves a glass of wine and a handful of fruit pastilles.  He holds them just inches out of reach as he coaxes me away from my desk and into the sitting room.  Once on the sofa, that wine is all mine.

The husband has Jobs To Do around the house and he is pottering about doing them at his own pace.  This is slowly as the thought of being stuck inside with nothing to do is terrifying him.  He put a new toilet roll holder up this afternoon which whiled away at least forty five minutes.  The trouble is that when he is done, he likes to hover in my office.  After three days of this, I very kindly told him that I was working and he had to pretend I wasn't there.  We have come to a mutual agreement that he is only allowed to talk to me during work time if the sentence includes the words lunch, tea or coffee.

And of course, my beauty regime has taken a complete back seat.  I am permanently either attired in a pair of scruffy jeans or my pyjama bottoms, so my legs look like a porcupine with a buzz cut.  I've had to start sitting with my legs at least 30 degree apart for fear of my legs sticking together life a couple of bits of Velcro...

My hair is too long and I am currently sporting a rather fashionable two inch streak of mousey grey down my centre parting.  I say it's fashionable as I doubt there is any lady over 45 who isn't suffering with the same problem.  Heaven help the hair stylists of this country when us girls are given permission to be released out into the wild.  It will look like the start of the London Marathon without the Lycra,

I'm lucky though.  The husband has seem me at my best and worst, so this rather shabby version of his normally well preserved wife is not causing him too much angst. Mind you, I reckon he is rather glad as it takes the pressure off him as he is in dire need of a hair cut.  

He is going to start looking for his clippers soon so that he can do it himself.  

The things we do for entertainment in these strange days...