Pigeons and workload

The youngster flew into our window and either hurt itself or lost its confidence in flying. The chick wandered about our garden all day and only perked up when mum flew in. Towards dusk mum flew off and the chick must have followed eventually, for s/he wasn't there next morning. Nor was there a body, or a suspicious pile of feathers to indicate that the local cats had been at work. Breathed a sigh of relief.
Today I must do some work. I need to get my decks cleared, for I know Far After Gold is being edited as I write, and it is only a matter of time before it wings its way back to me and demands attention. I need to send chapters of the Victorian to cps, do work on crits recevied on the Regency tale, and age the heroine of the Tudor adventure and still remember to unload the washer, do some ironing and feed us both.
Vacumming and dusting? Who does those nowadays? And the grocery shop is due tomorrow. We've had some disruption in the household the last few days, but I'm aware my work rate had slowed even before the disruption clicked in. A meeting of the RNA in Morpeth on Friday was good fun and informative, but stole another day. Then there was my long overdue hair appointment, and a round of health checks looms - argh! I must get organised!


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