Mojo, Mojo, wherefore art thou Mojo?

Dear avid readers, I sincerely apologise.

My mojo has not only departed the building, it’s run out the back door, jumped the fence, and was last seen sprinting across the soccer field. 

Over the last two weeks I have been suffering from an abominable case of lethargy (perhaps comatose would be a more accurate description)

I’ve been left scratching my head. My quilting fabric squares lay on the bed in neat little piles, quietly mumbling away that they’d like to be sewn together please. The crumbs on my hardwood floors crunch away with every step I take, pleading to be sucked away into the lovely warm confines of the vacuum cleaner, and the bathroom? Don’t go in there unless an entire bottle of Domestos is used.

I haven’t been able to sit at my computer and focus for at least a week. I miss reading about the latest adventures of my friends on Facebook. I feel terrible about not following my blogging community more closely. I feel guilty that I’ve not responded to friends’ emails and messages, not because I’m unorganized, but because I haven’t even logged on to look at them.

I’m so tired.

Yes I only have one child, but he is into EVERYTHING. I used to smile in pleasant “understanding” at friends who would tell me that their kids were into everything, but now, I actually get it. If I’ve picked up the contents of the kitchen cupboard from the floor once, I’ve picked them up a hundred times. (Note to self- get a cupboard and fridge door lock, ASAP). I seriously don’t know how women with a gaggle of children do it.

It’s not just Max who has worn me down but I’m hoping it’s just a phase. 

So please forgive me. I just need a little more time.

LOST

My Mojo.

Handsome reward if found!