Expecting a visitor gives me the excuse I badly need to get some proper housework done. With Mum due to arrive this evening at 8.30pm I plan my day of domesticity carefully.
First, the long walk to the shop to replenish the milk supply and purchase Mum's staple food of bananas. I can't carry much more than that and still have control of the dog; yes, multi-tasking to start the day.
Next (after breakfast) I started on the kitchen. Then I thoroughly tidied, swept and scrubbed all the tiled floors; three restrooms, kitchen and the porch-type-place-where-the-shoes-and-coats-live. I felt a sense of achievement.
I took frequent breaks. After all, I had plenty of time to do a good job. Don't get me wrong; Mum's not one of those people who judges on cleanliness and tidiness. It's just something that desperately needed doing and her impending visit gave me the incentive to do it.
Ironing, laundry... oh yes, I think I'll wash all the bath mats too. Something went wrong and the dark wash was covered in small white flecks of disintegrating rubber backing while the white wash turned yellow! Housework is not so satisfying now.
A major tidy-up of the living room was required and it looks quite good now. I doubt it will last long.
My plan was then to sort out the dining area and my desk, hoover, have a bath and serenely await Rhiannon's return from school. After that, dinner, dog walk, write a blog post and relax before heading to the airport to collect Mum.
At 2.20pm the phone rang.
I didn't recognise the number but it was a UK code. It was Mum calling on her mobile, something she never, ever does.
She just had time to blurt out, "The flight I was booked on doesn't exist but I've managed to get an earlier plane leaving in a few minutes and will be in Berlin at 5.30pm."
What??!! How? Why? I'd checked the flight details the night before and all looked fine.
Panic! Will Tim get home in time to drive us to the airport? Will we have enough time to get there?
I called Tim to get him to come home early - he wasn't in the office so I had to leave a message and desperately hoped he'd get it in time. Luckily he did.
I rushed through the hoovering - a vital chore as Kita is having the mother and father of all fur-shedding episodes and leaves balls of soft, fine, velcro-like fur everywhere.
Rhiannon arrived back at 4.45 pm and we left at 5pm. Thankfully, the airport is only 8km away, but the traffic could have been much worse.
We still don't know what happened to the original flight. It wasn't cancelled; it just didn't exist.
By an amazing stroke of luck, Mum's taxi driver had turned up two hours early; he'd written the time down incorrectly. This meant she arrived in Heathrow just in time to catch the earlier flight. Otherwise she wouldn't have arrived until nearly midnight.
It's funny how things turn out for the best in the end.
But I didn't get to finish my planned blitz on stuff-that-still-needs-tidying-up-and-putting-away and stuff-that-needs-rearranging. Goodness knows when that will get done now. Next time we have visitors, I suppose.