Monday, Monday...

What a blissful weekend. Rather what a blissful Sunday (Saturday was rainy and a bad mental health day for me). I had my boys attention all to myself. No running off to collect people's census forms (for goodness sakes people do your flippin census form otherwise some underpaid worker has to come to your house 5 times before they can FINE you. Yes it's a fine-able offence.) No running off to work. Sunshine. We slept in, tinkered with our bicycles together, got the red lady braking properly, jarred olives, had lunch with a friend, went on a walk and I found an awesome poster, went to the pub for a sneaky brew, made olive paste* with the left overs, the boy made olive bread and we made really really flippin awesome pizza, watched grand designs, read our books in bed, had sex**, and slept. So. So. Good.

And now. Monday morning. We were greeted not only by the (NOT) dulcet tones of 'Triple M' blasting from a  boom box but moments later a chain saw. Outside our bedroom window. Ahhh the city. Some days you make it hard for me to imagine leaving you, sometimes, you make it real real easy.

* Recipe to come.

** Yes I did just go there. But in very small writing...

{pictures of olive bread and the awesome poster - yes it is in the bathroom over the loo. You're welcome.}