So there I was .. sitting around the house all day in my onesy..
A nice, little tiger number with a white tummy , built in feet like a babygrow and a hood with a cheeky wee tiger face!
I think I look pretty good. It’s defintely a cosy thing for sitting around the house in .. the modern equivalent of Billy Connelly’s sketch about the family sitting around in the big slipper.
It’s like this.. I was off today,not like me,but had a bit of a panic with my end of year accounts and spent yesterday working on them ..and woke up at 5am realising that I’d made a mistake and had to almost start again.
Confession.. I’m self-employed .. enjoy the work and the money but hate doing my accounts so I avoid them like the plague.
This time I was pushing my luck and got my arse chewed.
So I threw a sickie today,stuck the onesy on and battered into the accounts, broke the back of it, then was on the phone to my accountant for an hour.
All in progress…relax.
So … chilling out time, tv on.. watching the football on tv .. when the doorbell rings.
Fuck… You know the worst thing about wearing a onesy?
Answering the door when you don’t know who it is?
Neighbour? Depends on the neighbour but I’ve good neighbours so it would be a laugh.
Random caller .. charity collector.. a smile and on we go.
My daughters are out…I’m thinking…I’ll just ignore it, but then there’s the knock..
You know the knock?
Only one type of people give you that knock!
I could see their shadow on the glass of the doior as I came through the hall … it was only 2 big bloody Glesga polis .. double feck.
Fortunately, they were here asking about a neighbours car.
They kept a straightface, but I was mortified … think I would have been less embarrassed if they had caught me wearing woman’s underwear.