We've hardly left the house this week. Aside from a super quick trip to fill up the car with petrol and pick up groceries, we have been home bound. And I haven't really minded, everything we've needed has been right here. Angus and I have been fighting whatever god forsaken virus we've had and our place feels warmly inviting at the moment. Due to Felix's hoard of birthday gifts, there are plenty of new toys and activities to busy the boys. All new distractions. We had a day and a half of gorgeous sunshine. Chilly. But it cast such splendid light.
It was wishful thinking to expect it to last. Early yesterday afternoon, the darkness rolled in, a frosty wind kicked up and my washing whipped around on the clothes line. So much of my time lately, involves hanging washing out, then getting it back off the line a couple of hours later, while it's still damp and icy. Then moving it to various piles in the lounge room. Wet. Wetter. Wettest. Then strategically dangling it over our 6 dining chairs. Right in front of the heater. Close to the heater. And in the general vicinity of the heater. I eventually work them up the line to poll position in front of the heater. Fold the dry ones. Then the process starts again. It really is as relentless and boring as it sounds. Though it has sharpened my production line skills.
Angus and I snuck in a little outdoor time though. Blowing bubbles, freezing our little fingers off and for Angus, playing hide and seek under bed sheets on the clothes line. Just as I recalled I used to as a child. Except we had the great Aussie hills hoist and always far more sheets hanging out to dry. Though I think we have quite enough washing in this household for now. So another Winter's afternoon sets in. Another day at home.