I'm feeling a little under the weather. Sore throat. Head achey. Congested. My body feels... Oinky. But we're not here to talk about me. Are we?
So while I'm sitting here ironing the Mt Everest of ironing that's been collecting - and spilling over the basket, the Doctor is madly painting with his new watercolours.
He's making loads of paintings. He's prolific like Picasso. I try and hang up most his art works, but we're rapidly running out of walls. I've even dedicated a certain corner to being the Doctor's art gallery. It's full and we'll need a few sales before we can hang the next show.
The image above is a wiggly sea worm. POA.
As for Tiny, well. These days she's performing her own stunts. Won't walk. Will climb. What a massive punkrat. Yesterday I found her scaling the small ladder in her bedroom (excuse the mess - again - this time she created it herself - she's more into installations than paintings).
We're in a difficult limbo with Miss Tiny. She's decided not to go for two sleeps, which is what I call - a massive bummer. She gets herself ridiculously tired by the end of the day, in a filthy mood and consequently head butts the floor*.
If you don't have any children or would like to have another, now's the perfect time to add to start your collection. POA.
* Told you she did her own stunts.