I am slowwly coming to the realisation that I am never happier when I’m sat under my heated blanket, in a clean house with all the washing done, or drying on the heated airer (dehumidifier happiness is another add on to this tale!).
I reached a new level of personal nirvana yesterday when I made an apple crumble from scratch after an unnecessary trip to Sainsbury’s where I pootled about buying stuff, after rearranging the linen cupboard.
Younger me would have been out until 3am and have been nursing a hangover whilst eating crisps on a knackered sofa, with weeks of washing not done.
Anyone else had a personality transplant in their late 30’s/early 40’s?