This was my dream: I was at a big party in our flat, a large converted industrial space. I saw small hot blue-orange flames on the carpet in the corner. I stamped them out, but they lit up again. I wondered if the flames were coming up from the floor below. A distraught woman started waving a creepy old leather baby doll at me. It had lost all of its stuffing. She was convinced it was the remains of a real baby, which it clearly wasn't, and even if it was, the fire downstairs was more important.
Whatever happened to 365 days of house?
Scraped off wall-paper fragments on the stairs.
Cleared the dead plants from the greenhouse (all of the geraniums, boo).
Sorted out a drainage support for the apple tree pot.
Slowed down compost bin with shredded paper.
Disposed of rubbish from the shed.
Stripped off paint from the verandah door-frame.
Knocked out blown plaster on the stairs.
Stripped paint and wall-paper on the stairs.
Cleaned up the herb pots and planted some new.
Started up the propagater for the year (Ordinary Geranium, Diamond Aubergine, Lemon Drop Peppers, Blue Pimpernel, Chilean Glory Vine, Delphiniums, Summer Savory).
Started up the greenhouse for the year (Tulip, French Bean, Georgie & Steve's Peppers, Sweet Peas, Regular peas, Datura, Parsley, etc.)
Knocked out the rotten plaster in the hall.
Stripped paint off the stairs skirting.
Scraped paint from the ceiling in the hall.
Stripped the wallpaper around the radiator pipes.
De-insulated the greenhouse.
Cleared out the strawberry pots and put the spare strawberries into a hanging basket.
Put out washing to dry for the first time this year.
Stripped some more paint and wallpaper.
There's a lot of repetition and normalchores in that lot. Oh February, what a trial you are.