Middle aged Saturday

I am now officially old. Here is how I have spent my Saturday. I got up when mr me left to play football, spent the morning going food shopping, taking my bottles to the recycling bin and doing the washing. Then I had lunch while reading the paper. I spent the afternoon setting up my new compost bin and filling it with alternate layers of rotting apples from the bottom of the garden (where they fell from the tree in autumn) and paper from the shredder and then generally tidying up the garden. Then I got in and sat down with a cup of tea and a crossword, then called my parents, then got the washing in and had a conversation over the garden fence with my next-door neighbour about the weather, his chest and the garden. I have no plans for Saturday night except that maybe the bathroom needs cleaning!

I am maybe not quite as sad as this sounds. I did have plans last night (meal out with mr me for belated Valentine's day) and do have plans tomorrow night (friend's birthday), but I do feel a bit old and boring nowadays because owing your own house just seems to swallow your weekends, whether it's doing the garden, DIY or just trying to vaguely get on top of the housework. People keep telling me I should get a cleaner, and maybe they are right, but it just seems so appallingly middle class. However, the real proof that I am getting old is that I quite enjoyed the day- just pottering round on my own getting things sorted. I do like being out in the garden. I should just stop fighting it and give in to being middle aged.

(My garden, but taken in the autumn before I'd done much to it.)