Jana's Recycling Journey Through West Berkshire
This week I have gone backwards, as instead of clearing my garage I filled it with stuff from a house clearance.
For time being I will be struggling with space until I can sell it on the next available boot-sale to raise funds for Cats Protection league. Meanwhile I am waiting for the boot-sale to open I must box up the recycling as fast as possible, so it doesn’t end up being an overwhelming job.
I need to ensure that in my box up heat I won’t seal the kids into one of them. I also need to make sure that I don’t put a UPS sticker on my dog when going out to walk her.
At least this week the kids had the week off and I didn’t need to balance work with home schooling.
Finally, this week I was able to concentrate on my work and didn’t have my son walking into a middle of work telepresence asking for some glue. At least I am not that poor guy who was attending the telepresence as a cat because he was unable to take off the background. I at least had never had to confirm that I am not a cat, nor a crocodile, and always turned up being myself. Still I do feel for the guys because I also find the new technology a little bit overwhelming.
That’s when I need my children to help me. Though it’s hard to explain that I don’t need to have a different ring for each person or change their background to make them into different characters of the muppet show. Firstly, it would be impossible to explain why I am giggling at a cookie monster (AKA my boss) trying to share a very serious piece of information with the team. That’s why I had to restrict my kids to fix my ringtone and camera only
I do admit that although I am Mrs Basic, my husband is embracing all that the wonders of technology can give. He meets up with his friends each Friday evening for an online pub chat. He set a different background each week. Last week when I walked in on his conversation, I was met up with a heavy throaty tenor Smurfette talking about football, nodding papa Smurf and Grouchy Smurf tipping a pint down his throat…J. Karst
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