I can feel a To-Do List coming on. Or perhaps it is more of a Get Through it and Out the Other Side List. The time-line for this list is not defined, but much of it needs to be tackled/endured within the next month or so. Some of it...may take a while.

So, thus far I have:


45 x 3000 word essays to mark in roughly one week because I have to also do...


Jury duty. I don't think I can get out of this one so easily, and putting it off is only going to defer the infinite pleasure of it all. I don't think I could bear the anticipation, so I'll get it out of the way now. Although they may just send me home without any input from me, (according to my Bro the Lawyer, defence lawyers often do this when they find out you have a PhD..? Yet, people with PhD's are just as stupid, ignorant and biased as anyone else. Take me for instance). Hope I get a white-collar crim to put away for years and years and years. Hahahaahahaha!!!! Power!!!
See? Would you really want me on a jury?


Get through my 37th birthday with as much nonchalance and aplomb as I can muster. Wearing lots of bright colours, and possibly drinking tequila. 


Try to encourage friends to attend my birthday gathering at obscenely short notice. This requires people to be spontaneous - often with children. So I imagine few people will actually be able to make it. That'll teach me for being in denial about my birthday. (It's not the getting older, it's feeling crap whilst getting older that is the issue here).


Consistently take my naturopathically prescribed herbal remedies, do more yoga, and get more sleep. Apparently I have 'adrenal exhaustion'. Well, ha. That explains it.


Slap the next male colleague, (my female colleagues don't do this), who nervously asks me if I am going to have any more children. Clearly thinking that female employees are loose baby-making cannons who will suddenly leave them in the lurch for the next teaching year, greedily slurp up maternity leave, and not be around to be readily exploited. I don't have to be pregnant to not want to be around for the next teaching year, and its accompanying exploitations.


Bake something for my child's class fundraiser...this Friday (gah). Help! Suggestions welcome.


Paint my ceilings with assistance from the Prodigal Father, who is coming to stay with us in 10 days. More on that anon. Maybe.


Try to teach my child that offering me $50 in return for letting her do/have something she wants is not the best approach or philosophy to have in life. (What Den of Iniquity posing as a primary school does she attend every day to be bringing home such corruption?)


Offer my child $50 to keep her room tidy.


Dust stuff. I'm told that this is generally a good domestic habit to adopt. Apparently.


Sew more things. Of course. I mean, really.


Go on a budget. And stick to it. Which I'm not very good at. Or rather, I am very good at only spending what I have and no more. But that also means that I do tend to spend all that I have, which is sometimes a problem. Money tends to burn big holes in all my pockets. This happens a good deal in fabric stores. And bookshops. It's a shameful affliction, and strange too as I don't even enjoy shopping. Generally speaking.


Get my worm-farm happening, as well as some other horticultural bits and pieces. 


Try to get out of town. Even if only for a few days. Before I go completely fucking barmy.
Also, Kat - I am taking you up on your offer of a visit once you are snugly domiciled in your lovely new digs. I promise to bring offerings of chocolate and lay them reverently at your feet. Most likely this will involve Koko Black Chilli Truffles and Champagne Truffles, for which I am quite willing to offer my firstborn, (who incidentally, is refusing to go to sleep tonight, so frankly it would be a good exchange. Grrr). 
I am also very happy to offer a hand in the garden. You have no idea how excited I get about weeding these days. No. Idea. Just to have my hands in the earth again...pleeeease?


Plot, scheme, and pursue my ultimate goal for World Domination. Or, Plan B, which involves me giving academia the heave-ho, moving out of the city, wearing long flowing gowns and knitted shawls with stripey tights and witchy-poo boots, (it helps to visualise the outfit that will go with the life), getting pregnant again, (a highly dodgy prospect as I don't stay pregnant very easily), digging in my vegie garden and finding that elusive recipe/pattern for knitting my own yoghurt.