Fiddling while Rome Burns

I've had one of those weeks this week where I seem to have been madly busy but have nothing concrete to show for it. I blame the internet. ('cause of course it's not my fault!)

Madmumof7 with DS#1, the first one
of the flock to leave. 
My lovely DH is very keen to have a move-about of our bedrooms. We have been going to university open days which has meant it's finally sunk in that this time next year the second of our flock of seven will be leaving the nest. His older brother went last year and actually doesn't come home with laundry but does make a bee-line for the fridge and the TV remote the minute he walks through the door on his rare trips home.

Whilst I got misty eyed about the adulthood of another of our babies, DH was doing a quick head count and realised we could reclaim our bedroom which we had divided into two to give more privacy for growing children. He is itching to tackle the stud wall with a sledgehammer. I am keen to create a home office in one corner of our much bigger bedroom but less keen to sort through the tat which both I and the children have accumulated over the past few years.

So every day I wake, fully intending to sort through old clothes, outgrown or tatty clothes, baby toys, broken or unloved toys, abandoned craft projects etc.

And every day I find something more urgent, more interesting, more "not sorting through crud" which seems to take all day.

To be fair I start most days writing blogs, or posting to linkys, checking the social networks, posting to them, checking and replying to emails offering work or chasing work. OK to most it looks like I'm faffing about on Facebook and Twitter but it's work honest. And it's not my fault if it's all too easy to be distracted by that cryptic message left by a friend which means you feel the need to pop up for a coffee (and maybe a small slice of cake) to find out what they meant by "can't take it any more" or "Fed up".

Fiddling with my phone? Or working?
Actually  the message normally isn't in fact a desperate last ditch cry for help, more a desperately frustrated rant about the delivery that didn't turn up or the washing machine that leaked but better safe than sorry eh?

And take now for instance - I could be tidying the kitchen or cleaning bathroom or actually starting to sort through the mess upstairs ready for the demolition work but what am I doing instead? Faffing on the internet, fiddling while Rome burns, or as I like to call it, "working"

My guiltiest times this week were when I wasn't even in the house. But I was networking - meeting a client for a strategy meeting over coffee (although we mostly talked about her DD's boyfriend and the bargains to be had in charity shops), meeting another potential client and arranging a meeting -which might have looked a lot to the rest of the world like me chatting to a playground mum over coffee and yet more cake at the school's Big Coffee Morning for Macmillan Cancer Care.

In my office-wear
And I've been (as always) constantly fiddling with my smart phone this week, even when out shopping, in a hospital waiting room, at the most dull bit of sharing assembly. Emails, blogger groups, social networks, all have to be constantly watched when you are a full-time professional blogger. And playing Candy Crush just keeps my elderly brain active, I tell myself.

I've run out of reasons to keep typing. I really have to go and tackle my bedroom. But maybe I'll just have a quick look at Facebook first.....

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