No books, no bed

I’m thinking of renaming the blog, given the lack of bedding and booking in bookandbed’s world just now. It’s keeping it real only as rhyming slang for my most-commonly used anglo-saxon adjective.
Bookandbed is not happy. Mrbookandbed is not happy. Monkey face is not happy. My mother is deeply disturbed by the lack of bookandbedding in my life (not true. She is disturbed only by the ironing mountain, the dust and the tumbleweed drifting through my fridge. But I don’t write a bog about that.) actually, it would appear I don’t write a blog about bookandbedding either, currently.
I made a bit of an effort, tonight, which was hard because I was fuming and had a thousand things to do. And MF clearly had an axe to grind.
Monkey and I looked at some ABC flashcards, and she read Up in the tree which she asks for a lot these days. My mum read it with her, her dad read it twice (she insisted, we aren’t too lazy to go get her more books!) and when I should have been entering 5000 dummy opportunities into our CRM training environment I too got to read it 3 times before I could finally slide a child marginally less whiny than bookandbed today into her dad’s arms and I could slope back off to work.
Night night

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