Woke up to rain hammering the roof this morning.

Well that’s not technically correct. When you are bottom floor of a two storey house you can’t hear the rain. But a quick dash to the kitchen to put the caffeine addiction into place led to an opening of the blinds and there it was.

A rainy Christchurch day.

Something I actually love on a weekend. Gives me an excuse to stay inside and veg out. Provided I can ignore the housework. Which apparently I can.

After years of sticking to a steady schedule of 4 or more hours housework on a Friday night or Saturday morning, I have conveniently forgotten how to vacuum. Fortunately MOD loves ‘hoovering’. That’s why I call him ‘Man of Dreams’. Plus it all works well for me and my new policy of refusing to vacuum until they make a ride on one. 

But, once upon a time, in my younger and more unenlightened years, I would spend those 4 odd hours dutifully vacuuming, dusting (ceilings, architraves, ornaments WT????), wiping down benches, scrubbing, scrubbing and more scrubbing, showers, and toilets, head submerged, vigorously scrubbing, scrubbing that toilet bowl. No longer.

One might say I have become lazy.

Of course the jury is still out on whether or not housework will kill you. I’m not taking that chance. 

Instead, I might sit in the lazy boy, with a downloaded book from the Christchurch City Library,  occasionally glancing out the french doors to see if the weather has let up.

It’s Christmas in the Park tonight and after watching those guys set up for four days I hope it does.