When the only answer is a jigsaw

I told Husband to take George out without me this morning; I planned to do some cleaning. And I did I was a busy little bee. If I tell you I cleaned the bathroom, toilets, lounge, study, and hall, it will sound impressive - until I tell you it was a 'Nobody's going to see this anyway' sort of clean. A 'don't look too closely or too high or to low, and it'll be fine' sort of clean.

But then I ran out of things to do. I could have cleaned some more but, really? So eventually I sat in the sunshine and read. I finished my book, started a new one, got bored, decided to turn over, got even more bored, and ended up filming ants digging a hole and making an ant hill.

It is very *painful typing this. Yesterday I did some weeding and several thorns forced their way into my fingers. I can't tell if it's an embedded tiny thorn that's causing my pain. I can't see anything. Flipping brambles trying to hide amongst the weeds.

The day before i was clearing around the gooseberries. Now they are vicious little so'n'sos. In the end I told them they'd have take their chance with the convolvulous; I wasn't having anything more to do with them.

Do you have convolvulous in your garden? It is evil. It shoots up immediately next to the raspberry/rose/gooseberry bush so it's hard to work out what is plant and what is evil enemy. And by the time I get to the end of the raspberry patch - about ten feet - I swear they are already peeking up again at the other end. (I couldn't remember its common name: it's bindweed for obvious reasons.)

Today has been a dis-easy sort of day. Feeling out of sorts. I seem to recall last time I felt like this it was a Saturday too. So I'm starting a new jigsaw. That'll take my mind off stuff.

*Very painful = slightly tender at my fingertip.