At this very moment in time you can't see our kitchen chairs, because they're buried beneath a mound of ironing that has been accruing since the weather got good.
The floor has that sticky consistency you find in nightclubs at 3 am and I haven't changed the beds in at least a fortnight. I'm praying for a bit of rain because otherwise we are going to be buried in our own filth or the children will starve to death.
I've gone to pot since the sun started shining. I've turned into a slovenly good for nothing housewife who hasn't lifted a finger to make beds, clean kitchens or wash children since Summer arrived to our shores a fortnight ago. We may be all pretty grubby and hungry but we've got nice tans at least!
The children are beginning to wonder if I'm ever going to cook again.
Not that they're particularly worried seeing as I'm not known for my culinary prowess. But I think take away six nights in a row has proven a bit much even for them.
And there has been wine. A lot of wine. In fact I've drank ALL the wine in the house. I feel like I'm on my holidays and if you're eating outside you have to have wine, don't you? It would be rude not to.
I can actually feel wine seeping out of my pores at this stage so if the weather doesn't change by some divine intervention, I'm heading for the Betty Ford Clinic.
Apart from my growing alcohol dependence, my filthy house and dirty kids there's been other down sides to the good weather. The local supermarket sold out of ice creams and wine funnily enough.
And despite the fact that I think a national holiday should be declared when the temperatures hits 20 degrees, people still have to work. An absolute outrage in my opinion. Nothing worse than being stuck in a stuffy office when the sun is splitting the stones outside.
Then there's the whole issue of overcrowding. When I decided to go to the beach last week, I couldn't find it because it was covered...with people, all lined up like multi coloured sardines in swimsuits lying practically on top of each other trying to soak up the rays. I couldn't bear it. Why couldn't they feck off and find their own beach, somewhere else, miles away from me?
You could argue that I'm a contrary old wagon who's only looking for something to complain about. And you're partly right.
But you know I have to admit the novelty of having a big yellow ball in the sky every day has worn off a little bit.
I need to clean my house, feed my children and STOP drinking wine.
A few days of rain or even cloudy skies would sort me out and get me back on an even keel.
What's seldom is wonderful!