Brain Fog Decends on Stalingrad

School has finally returned from the Christmas break, which means everyone is now ill.  It’s a predictable pattern, after the first week, the class numbers start to dwindle as the children succumb to colds,  tummy bugs and chicken pox. Then the wee darlings bring it all home to Mum and Dad.

I’m finding it difficult to self-motivate with my foggy brain and sleepy eyes. Beading is happening in fit and starts.  It would be so bad if I could sit comfortably with my beading tray across my lap, but alas, I was cursed with thighs about three inches too short. This makes tray balancing in front of the television a precarious sport, and comfort is not an option. The soft contours of the couch beckon to me, and while I try to resist, the pull is getting stronger.

Another thing keeping me from achieving my beading goals, is the ruthless and cunning Joseph Stalin. In the evenings he’s at his most demanding, plucking my work-in-progress off my bead mat and hurling it across the room. Pressing his face against mine and forcing me to give him my undivided attention. Melting my heart with his endearing face and loving cuddles, then driving me from the room with his rancid flatulence. In Just a week, Stalin has the entire household under his full control. But we love him anyway.

Stalin, pictured here with his brother "Jerry" or as I like to call him "Lenin".

Stalin, pictured here in the SPCA shelter with his brother “Jerry” or as I like to call him “Lenin”.

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