My epilator has gone missing, and we think that Littlerbit has stashed it somewhere. The question is — where? I decided that I was going to tear apart the lounge and check through all their toys to see if maybe it had gotten buried there… no dice. But on the up side the toys are the tidiest they’ve been in ages, and once we’ve run a vacuum around it’ll look quite good in here. Z has looked around upstairs a few times and I have a bit too, as well as me tearing my desk apart pretty much every day. I keep having dreams that I know where it is, which keeps me looking, ha ha. But alas, I’m probably going to have to suck it up and shave tomorrow, which my skin hasn’t had to deal with for a couple of years now and will probably take its normal level of irritation and crank it up to bleventeen. But eh, making do and all that. I’ve got a like-for-like replacement bookmarked on Amazon, but as we can’t afford it right now and are buying new glasses in a few days… so it goes.
For now, I get to wonder just how dead I am going to feel tomorrow. I definitely did more than I should have, especially in the wake of having been so ill yesterday. And it’s probably moot because it’s half-term and the children are going to be tiny tearaways leaving trails of destruction in their wakes. Feh, at this point as long as I manage to drag myself into the bath, I’m not sure I can bring myself to care about the probability.