If only karma wore clothes
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I’m sorry to all my readers. I really am. You have all been on my mind. Your lives must have been so empty without my weekly instalment of whinging and complaining and tales of generally failing at every aspect of life, apart from whinging and complaining. And now I have returned, after too long an absence, my main topic of conversation is again, washing clothes.

From the moment not-so-tiny-monster and I got home from the hospital, I have been suffering my karmic pay-back and let me tell you, karma really is a bitch.  

Family legend tells that when I was a young child, I used to change my outfit four times a day. Every time I was unsupervised I would be in my bedroom, preparing to don a new and improved outfit. I don’t remember why, but I remember doing it.


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