In an attempt to offset the usual miserable decline in work output that generally happens during these times, I had decided to wake up at the crack of dawn to read a chapter on Douglas Moo's excellently detailed commentary on Paul's letter to the Romans and make some notes. My long-suffering husband is quite used to my bedside light going on at bizarre times and appears to be able to sleep on until his alarm goes off. Snuggling down last night, I decided to get a least an hour of 'work' in before the household awoke. Alas for the best-laid plans! When I did finally surface, there was already a cup of tea waiting for me and the dog was whining to be let out. Husband went downstairs and busied himself with getting ready for work, and I sat up and started reading, cursing my laziness. I'm tackling a particularly tricky part of the epistle at the moment, dealing with sin, death and the law. Every commentator and interpreter has his subtly different six penn'orth and the footnotes take up more of the page than Moo's text, so it is fiendishly difficult to keep a hold on the thread of the argument. Ideally, one needs a straight couple of hours to get into the swing of it before it starts to cohere, and today it just wasn't going to happen.
I impressed on the children last night that, with no school, they could have a bit of a lie-in - but it wasn't long before I was joined by the bright-eyed boy wondering what I had lined up for the day. Groaning inwardly, I put down my book and gave him a cuddle. We'd walked the dog and were entertaining daughter no.2 and the new baby before daughter no.3 flumped wearily downstairs and started painting her nails black. I suppose I could be doing some work now, but I'm a bit distracted and just not in the mood. The evening is also out of the question: if I try to tackle anything serious after the children go to bed, I just forget it immediately or fall asleep book in hand. My bedtime reading consists of inane mush at the moment. I shall try again tomorrow. Honest, I will!