Living from weekend to weekend

I've just read back the last few posts on here and I've noticed that, like many people, I'm living from one weekend to the next with very little inbetween. Even in the summer. Any posts that I've made during the week are whinges about how boring my job is and how much I dislike which ever of my supervisors is pissing me off that day.

I should be making the most of my evenings, meeting friends in a park, or going to shows at the globe with my boyfriend, but I don't. I've gone back to the pub job so that's Wednesdays and Fridays out of the equation but on the evenings when I'm not working I seem to go home and clean. My new hobby is washing up-or pulling out the cooker/fridge to clean behind them, or re-organising the cupboards (cleaning them as I empty them, obviously).



Shit. I'm turning into my Dad.



I like nothing more than the satisfaction of a clean orderly kitchen side or a freshly made bed and I've always had a weird obsession with washing and washing up. I seem to spend an unreasonable amount of my life hanging socks. None of this would make a particularly good blog post. (So I'm sorry about this one).

I work and clean. That is my life. It will be worth it when I can buy a house outright and spend my evenings in my own garden and my weekends walking along the Pembrokeshire coast.













Additional: I've just booked two tickets to see 'As you like it' at Shakespeares Globe Theatre. After all, for the time being, I live in London. One of the most interesting, busy and cultural cities in the world, I might as well make the most of it until I retire to the countryside.