Fuckoffruary

This last week I was delighted that one day I left work in day light, my spirits were lifted. A promise of Spring .

For me everything is all about time at the moment, deadlines, tax returns, marking, brief writing, customers, and on and on.

So much to do, so little time, so little inclination. I should probably be uploading stuff now, but obviously I’m chatting with you instead. Not to worry, I’ve never missed a client deadline yet and I filed my tax return online, today, on a Sunday morning, 10.30, an entire day and a half left before pumpkin time.

I’d prefer confetti and a trumpet fanfare to the sterile confirmation page of the HMRC, file your tax return, website. I’d settle for a round of applause, a pat on the back?

We all know that January is an appallingly long month, but there’s so much that has to get done in it. I note with some relief that it will be gone at midnight tomorrow.

I’m hoping that the month of February won’t be insisting that I stop drinking, go vegan, shave my beard, or grow a moustache.

Fuckoffruary, for the next 28 days please.

The big thing House Tart wise at the end of January, is our anniversary. This year it’s 31 years since our first date.

I wondered if there was a specific gift that is traditional for a 31st anniversary. Apparently not. I did find a list of how 31 years breaks down.

16,293,600 minutes

Asleep together for nearly 9 years 7 months

24,700 meals together, approximately a year and 8 months eating time.

I don’t really see how this info is collected or how it’s useful to anyone. According to Cornflake, it’s most likely inaccurate, for us anyway. He estimates the sleep and especially the time spent eating figures are seriously underestimated.