Spare room chaos

I’ve sorted out the spare room. Sort of. I bought two ginormous plastic storage boxes and the bed which previously looked like a small nuclear warhead had gone off scattering laundry, clothes in the ‘don’t know whether to keep or give to charity’ pile, stationary, a large plastic windmill, a badly hidden Christmas present, tea towels, a wooden bowl and some camera equipment all over the place, now has the aforementioned items in the aforementioned storage boxes and for the first time in three months, the bed looks like a bed. It’s still chaos, but a neater more orderly form of chaos.

I haven’t heard from the job I interviewed for so I’ve reconciled myself to receiving a letter in the post in the next couple of days saying thanks, but no thanks... It’s a huge blow but there’s nothing I can do. Back to looking for suitable jobs and filling out dreary, soul sucking forms in which the eager job seeker gets to prostitute their skills, experience and enthusiasm to complete strangers. Not that I’m fed up with the whole process you understand.

Bess is snoring so loudly on the sofa that it’s hard to concentrate on typing and I’ve given up on trying to hear what’s happening on Murder, She Wrote. Good job I’ve seen every episode several times over. Maybe that’s my cue to get up and do the washing up anyway...