In my front room are seven teenage boys. The smell from their feet is ... well, I'm keeping all doors well and truly closed.
It's Friday night and the rest of the family have gone out - my teenage daughter has gone pub singing with my husband and my mother (husband will play, but heaven help them if granny starts to sing!).
It's a strange evening - I have, I suppose, all this time to myself. One half of the family are out, and son and entourage are otherwise occupied on the Playstation game. So... why do I feel... bored?
I'm not bored, I have LOTS to do. I could be writing; editing one of my stories. I could be practicing some music (gig next week and I haven't learned all my words), I could - also - be ironing. But I feel unmotivated to do any of these.
I think by Friday night I'm ready for a natter with a mate and a few bevvies. But all my mates are out, and drinking on your own is no fun I find.
So, in fact there is little point to this post except to note that I have found something to do - update my blog with a meaningless post.
Time for a bath I think...