What I actually did...

My weekend alone involved perhaps two overseas phone calls in the end, not the hours I intended - the sun was shining and I had the urge to ride my bike and when you are home alone, you can do what you want. So I rode my bike and browsed in an art shop, and went to the post office and browsed in a lumber shop, and sawed some wood (Jack's Christmas present is coming together...) and went to a yoga class and had an eyelash tint and ate supper early and read and wrote a bit.  I put on three washes and folded all the laundry and amid the quiet I listened to the radio. On Sunday morning I woke at six thirty with the blissful knowledge that I could go back to sleep if I wanted, which I did want. At eight forty five I was woken by the phone ringing. The boys had been up since five and figured I had to be up by now.  So I got up and ate breakfast slowly and suddenly it was eleven and I got a text saying 'Are we allowed home yet?' and in truth I was missing everyone. What I learned this weekend is that an empty laundry pile is an overrated pleasure, but a lie-in is not.