We get the last laugh - eventually...

Well.
It started when I, blurry-eyed and feral-haired, stumbled out of bed.
Still half asleep I shrugged my dressing gown on and went to the bathroom.
When it all went a little awry - wait, let me show you ...

Remove one cat from the basin and the other from the loo-seat. 

Turn round to clean teeth - remove first cat from the basin again. 

Trip over second cat.

Evict both cross felines from bathroom.

Return to the bedroom to get dressed.

Fettle in a pile of 'scruff-clothes', find suitable gardening clothes.

Put clothes on.

Put socks on.

Start to make bed.

Vaguely notice trousers don't feel 'right'.

Look down - trousers appear misshapen.

Further investigation needed,

trousers on ... back*to*front ...

(Do not, at this point, raise an eyebrow or snort in derision, dear reader - thank you.)

Remove disgraced trews with a flourish of scorn, 

have an excuse ready ...

they're a variety with the zip on the hip, not worn for some months.

Turn them round, 

put them on,

zip up on the correct side.

Hmmpfh.

Return to bed making.

Notice right sock.

On inside out.

Sigh. 

Finish making bed, bend down, 

remove offending sock, 

flip round, put it back on.

Two inside out socks.

What??!

Sit down on made bed,

take both socks off - double check status of 'inside-out to correct-way-round' ratio

put back on (again).

Put glasses on head of unruly hair and go down stairs.

Hear the kettle,

see a mug of waiting tea,

try to remove glasses from top of head,

discover bed-hair has spitefully enveloped glasses and tangled tendrils into the hinge.

Pull.

Swear.

Tug and untangle and swear a little more.

Look pathetic at long suffering husband.

He will chuckle.

Grrrrrr.

Pull again. 

Stand, look fed-up as he patiently unwinds what feels like yards and yards of hair .

Feel contrite.

Make porridge.

Know how Goldilocks felt when eating it.

Finish the lump off reluctantly.

Watch amazed at Himself as he eats his with relish.

(actually relish or pickle or some sort of condiment might have improved it!)

Escape to the garden.

Feel the early morning sun.

Feel the chill of the autumn air.

Smell the gentle decay of the end of season.

Close eyes.

Stand.

Breathe.

Feel better.

Feel happier.

Reach for the tools - for today, 

Sunday, 

we remove that final ginormous, stubborn, ugly, sullen tree stump 

so we can reclaim the garden for us.

Let the day begin. (Again!)

This was the stump. This picture was taken at the end of last weekend.

The tree (well, the leylandii from hell) has been taken down branch by branch,

over the last month, dependant of weather/mood/sons/husband/time. 

I tried to find a photograph of the tree prior to we launched our attack.

Not one is to be found, 

I have managed to avoid including it in any picture of the garden 

due to an insane hatred of it!

Like a rotten tooth - now out!

Woo hoo!

PS That hole is over 2 metres wide and nearly meter and half deep.

Just to fill it in now and re-design the garden. :)

#gardening