I don't know why I haven't posted in the last few days - goodness knows I have little excuse, having spent far more time than is healthy recently sitting on the couch, drinking tea and playing on the laptop. I blame Facebook. And all you pushers out there who encouraged me to get on there. My ever-expanding backside and neglected running shoes are looking at you accusingly. You know who you are.
Anyway, we have had lots and lots of snow here in Edinburgh which was kind of fun for a while and is now just tedious. The current batch is about four inches deep where I live, which is a lot to get in one go (stop sniggering Canada and northern USA). It is also no use for making snowmen as it is dry and powdery rather than obligingly clumpy. The boys and I did discover yesterday, however that it is EXCELLENT for throwing at each other in large, explosive shovel-fuls. It is apparently even better for shoving down your mother's neck and in her ears, but I can't confirm this as my mother is still snowed in in Livingston and probably wouldn't play that game with me anyway. FB and SB reckon it's a hoot, though.
After quite a long game of "Gang up on Mum and see if we can get the snow up her nose this time", we decided we had reached maximum saturation point and needed to get into dry clothes that did not go "crunch" when you bent over. The boys petitioned for the preparation of hot chocolate which is apparently the only substance known to man that will revive frozen offspring. We nipped over to the shop to buy more milk. And marshmallows, for I am a bit of a pushover.
The rest of the day was spent on said couch, reading, both online and in a proper book. This morning I was due to do a small errand and then meet Isabelle and K for coffee and erudite, learned discussions about literature and current affairs. This plan was interrupted briefly when I discovered that I had lost my purse.
I hunted everywhere and then recruited Husband to help me search everywhere again. (This even involved moving the big freezer that lives in our garage. You do not want to know what it looks like down the back of the big freezer that lives in our garage. I may not sleep tonight having seen it myself.) I knew I had my purse yesterday afternoon when I bought the marshmallows so it was either in the house or I had dropped it on the road outside. I was pretty sure I hadn't dropped it but concerted and increasingly frantic searching did not meet with any success. At Husband's suggestion, I telephoned our local police station (which is only a few hundred yards up the road from our house) to see if it had been handed in. It hadn't so I left my details.
I was now in that horrible position of having to decide whether to phone all the banks and credit card companies and DVLA etc to report the contents of my purse, otherwise known as "my life", lost presumed stolen. Eurgh. Before finally doing that, I decided to check the contents of the bin outside. I am not in the habit of throwing my purse in the bin, but by this point I was desparate. I donned disposable gloves and went outside. Where I discovered my purse lodged down the side of the recycling box in the garden. I must have dropped it as I came into the house. The sense of relief was almost overwhelming!
At Husband's suggestion, I phoned the police to let them know I had found it. As I dialled, he cackled: "They'll think you are one of those dippy middle aged wifies who keeps losing her stuff!"
I spoke to a nice lady who was very kind about my slight brainstorm. I told her what Husband had said. Her response? "He deserves a slap for that!"
I laughed. "You're the police - are you giving me permission to slap my husband?"
"Oh yeah," she said. "No weapons and not too hard, but definitely deserves a slap."
Husband is now on notice: I have police permission to administer a punitive slap. I am saving it for a rainy day.
Anyway, to cut what is becoming a very long story short, I made it for coffee with Isabelle and K (only 45 minutes late). Our learned discussion was had, Isabelle told me off (quite correctly) for not wearing enough layers, and K hypnotised me by knitting an actual sock in front of me. With 4 needles - I didn't know you could knit with more than 2! I am awestruck. And clearly losing the plot, if I believe the recycling bin is a suitable place to store my credit cards.
Oh, Happy New Year, by the way!