You really shouldn't blog when you've had a glass of wine and it's late

I've had a glass of wine. It's late.

I've got to wait up because eldest son needs a cricket top tomorrow which was in the laundry basket (actually, it wasn't in the laundry basket, it was draped over the back of the sofa - hadn't even made it to the bedroom floordrobe). So the top is in the washing machine, and I haven't put it on a wash cycle, because even the shortest wash cycle is long. It's on a "rinse only" cycle, with a bit of powder thrown in. Enough to get the garment clean and fresh-smelling, but not too much, because it's not a proper wash cycle, so it won't get rinsed out properly. Do you think that will work? I've never tried it before. I mean, I could have hand-washed the item, which would have taken 5 minutes, but frankly, hand-washing isn't for me any more.

I've really gone off blogging. I've just read the BiB short lists, and I know hardly any of the blogs. It's never been important to me to keep up with the top bloggers for the sake of it, but I spend quite a bit of time moseying around on screen, and it would be nice to recognise a few more names. I mean, who ARE all these zillions of new bloggers? I bet they're really good, but who has time to read them? I'd need a few research assistants if I was to keep up with blogging these days. An intern! That's what I need. A personal blogging intern! You don't have to pay interns, do you? Ideal.

Where do you advertise for a blogging intern?

Blogging, schmogging.

I've written a post about a really important issue. Education. I've got lots to say about it. And I want to say it. But it all came out wrong, and it just sounds like a huge guilt trip about my own children and being a rubbish parent. So what does that mean? That really I feel guilty about being a rubbish parent? Or that I have some things I'd like to say about education that are really sharp and pertinent, and I can insightfully and appositely illustrate them from my own experience. I can't be bothered to think about it.

The best thing about blogging this week was a post called Feckity Arse Biscuits, which - double whammy! - didn't even mention biscuits. Kudos to you, Not from Lapland. I also love the way you've changed from 'Notes from Lapland', to 'Not from Lapland'. Genius. I used to be 'Not wrong, just different'. Maybe I should have changed to 'Not Not wrong, and not very different either'.

I don't like Bloglovin. I don't like the title. Notlovin Bloglovin. I don't like the title, and I don't like the service. Why is Google closing down Google Reader? Not enough earning potential, I expect. Google is trying to take over the world, and no-one has noticed. Stop trying to take over the world, Google. But if you must, at least do the decent thing and pay your taxes in our little corner of it.

I also don't like my Hotpoint washing machine, but I bet Hotpoint pays taxes. I wonder if that cricket top is ready yet. Why did I even wash it? I should just have made him wear it all stinky. He's a teenager. It goes with the territory.

Well, read this post quickly, because I'm probably going to delete it. But comment before you do so, because unless I get at least 6 comments in the next 24 hours, I'm going to give up blogging for ever. Yes, I know that's manipulative, but I don't care.

Did anyone ever discover what IS the point of blogging? It used to feel fun and vaguely worthwhile, in a nebulous sort of a way, and now it just feels... bleurgh. Maybe bleurghing is the new blogging.

You know what they say. Never write and publish a blog post when you've had a glass of wine and it's late. Ha! What about if you're feeling rebellious? What then?

                                                                                                                                   Photo credit: I'm not telling you
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Perspective

It's all a matter of perspective. That's part of the whole "Not wrong, just different" approach to life. We used to think it was a long journey to see family: 4 hours to the nearest. We now think of that as a short hop. Four hours would hardly get us out of our state in most directions.

Living outside your own zone makes you realise how relative many of your absolutes actually are. What seemed like fact, becomes opinion. I overheard this telephone conversation between 11-yo and his grandmother. She had asked what sports he was playing at school at the moment, and it turns out they have been learning baseball (which I thought was a summer sport, and an outdoor one, but there you go). He said

"It's really hard. The bat is round, so the ball flies off in any direction, and they pitch it at you so fast. And the rules are so complicated. I like playing sports which have simple rules. Like cricket."

Yes, I thought that would amuse you. All a matter of perspective, you see.