On Sunday nights

These days I really hate Sunday nights. They used to be my favourite where I felt fresh and prepared for the week ahead. Not anymore.  I usually reflect on the week that was and realise that I had't done all the things I ambitiously set out to do for myself and others.  I ate the wrong things and didn't keep on top of the washing.  I haven't replied to texts or emails.  My head is exploding.

 

Then there's too much to do to prepare for Monday and the week ahead.  Meetings to plan.  Meals and snacks to think about and shop.  This week, my diary has come to a head with the volume of things I need to do and buy.  Of course the best way to make a start on those is to procrastinate and drink a cup of tea while sulking about it on the internet.

 

I have the final bits of the bathroom to lock in and supplies to collect on Wednesday.  I am anxiously still waiting for the tapware from Germany.  I am really cutting it fine with the fitout due next week.  And then there's a budget.  Budgets are made to be blown aren't they?  By at least 20%, right?

 

And here's photo evidence of the state of affairs at the moment.  It's making my head hurt.  My own fault for wanting a home with a bit of character that featured a peeling laminate vanity in the bathroom and horrible mismatched tiles.