Why is that I spend all day being really busy, doing stuff and the minute I have finished tidying up so you can't tell where I've been or what I've been doing and am about to sit down, he arrives home from work? He must have some sixth sense. Or the house is rigged with cameras.
2.30 this afternoon. All is finished - my nibbles are put in the freezer, I've tidied the kitchen, the dishwasher is on, I've thrown out all the rubbish from my epic present wrapping jaunt and the kettle has just boiled.
I'm intending on sitting down and watching tv for an hour whilst no one is home. I might even get out the secret stash of Skittles (no one ever thinks to look in the laundry room for goodies - there's only one person who ever opens the washing powder cupboard door. If someone else did and thought to reach to the back for the packet of washing powder they would be very surprised to find that rather than having washing powder inside it has a secret stash of sweeties and Club bars. ).
And in he comes. Home from work early!
My only plans for tomorrow are the ironing and going into school. He'd better not come home early tomorrow!