D.I.Y

I have decorated all day. With a ten month old in tow.

I am now a mere husk of a human being.

I am tired, dirty, sweaty and have lost the will to live. Consequently, in tidying up after an incredibly long day of pasting and cutting round corners and matching up the longest pattern repeat in the history of man, I seem to have scooped my sense of humour up with the off cuts of wallpaper that were scattered about the floor and sandwiched the lot in our over stuffed bin. 

I have no jokes to tell you, no witty banter to relay and most certainly not a single comical jape to share.

I do however have varnish in my hair, incredibly sticky hands and brown smears of old paste latticing my t-shirt, if these are any good to you?

No?

Oh. 

You'd better call back tomorrow then, when I'll see if I can rustle up something more entertaining. Like a hilarious tale about watching the ceiling paint dry. Or a rib tickler regarding the emptying of our dishwasher. Or a slapstick routine based on the reorganising of the cutlery drawer.

Smokin'.