Charmed with smiles and soap
I don’t want to be woken up tomorrow morning by the alarm clock. Instead, I want to be roused with muffins like the Baker in Hunting of the Snark. Hmmm… how nice would that be? To be awoken by warm muffins. The baker can keep all the other things he was roused with… I don’t want the ice, the mustard, cress, jam or judicious advice. I certainly don’t want the conundrums to guess. No, the muffins are quite sufficient!
Yes I’m in one of those moods. Too cold to paint; too tired to sew; too lazy to clean. When in this state – and confined in movement by cat in lap (not in hat) – nonsense is just the only option leave open.
Speaking of nonsense, did I ever publish that Tony Abbott won the Mad Hatter’s tea party invitation poll? Well, he did by a nose. Or probably an ear in tony’s case. If he was to run sideways that is. (I’m imagining Tony in a race running sideways against a podgy Winston Churchill and a ear deficient Van Gogh. Yup… Tony’s ear’s would get him over the line first I think). Ok, it’s clear that there’s is not going to be a smidgen of sanity to this post. I blame Saffron. She’s sitting on my foot and I now have pins and needles in it. Move her and the foot I must. Tally ho, there are muffins to be roused!