I’m Shit at Minimalism

I read Marie Kondo. I perved at minimalist pinterest pins. I oogled tiny houses. But when all our shit arrived off the boat from Scotland, I was delighted to meet my 14 winter coats again. Now I just have to find the box with boots in it.

I’m Shit at Looking After Phones

And this is one I LOVE.  You should see how I treated the work-issued ones.

I’m shit at being classy

I am, however, really good at being white trash:

How does one get their slab of cheap piss home from the offie? Balanced above the head of their only son, of course.

I’m Shit at Letting Go

This could be a meme about loss or regret. Or a meaningful post about life and moving on, or imperfection and making do. But it’s really just a worn through muslin that thanks to some BONKERS reflex action keeps getting pegged back on the line.  Like it’s made of fucking gold or something.

I’m Shit at Gardening

Hopes, verdant dreams and potting mix:

3 weeks later and what have my kids learnt? That EVERYTHING DIES. ALL THAT YOU LOVE WILL PERISH. And death is brown and withering and ugly.

That looks shit-all like the product shot. I want my money back.

I can’t even grow Alyssum, FFSAKE

Lovely crop of aphids