In more than one sense.
We have no cash so the weekend has to be something out of nothing, we also have no commitments. Widnes are playing away in Perpignan and we're here not there, we don't have any social stuff to do, no-one is visiting and there are no fab freebie days to take advantage of up the road (as far as I know).
So we're going to be at home. I love my house. Occasionally I have moments of clarity and see how much work there still is to do but I mainly ignore that and focus on the nice bits. I ignore the fact that we have no flooring in the living room or bathroom, the scary strip-light in the kitchen that illuminates the rest of the kitchen, the very unkempt garden and the hay. There's a lot of hay.
I have been commanded by Father to apply three coats of stuff to a pile of wood so he can build a compost bin for me next week. I have been removing my glasses for nearly three years to avoid seeing the state of the landing so I'm going to brave the garage and prepare to sand and satin (there's a lot of wood). So that's a good thing.
To prepare for such a hands on weekend there has to be something to sweeten the pill, that's the law of doing stuff isn't it. I don't think we've ever had anyone do any work on the house who took less than 3 sugars in their tea. So I'm going to buy some sugar and make some jam buns. I think my desire for jam buns came before thinking of a reason to justify making them, but that's a small detail. We only ever had cheap and cheerful mixed fruit jam when I was little but I don't have any of that so they're probably going to be cherry and putting too much in so they look like a volcano is a must.
I just hope I haven't used all the masking tape for clothes defluffing.