I'm not quite right in the head.
Well, I can't be really, can I?
I mean, the cracks must have already been showing in my mental well-being if I thought it was a good idea to fly to - quite literally - the other side of the planet with a toddler, just so we can all eat, sleep, and travel around the countryside in a camper van. But I do think I've stretched the bands of sanity by disrupting the week and half before our departure, that any normal person would spend preparing for said trip, by having some builders come in and basically wreck our house.
As I type this my darling daughter is snoring her little head off while power cables and water connections are flapping wildly in the late September breeze around me. Stepping outside our back door would result in the lesser agile among us plummeting to their certain death into a hole that I can only hope serves some greater purpose than being the cause of my premature demise.
But hey, kids run around construction sites all the time. Breeze blocks and gas mains make great toys, and don't let anyone tell you that sawdust is bad for a child's digestion.
If I'm to take any consolation from the current state of my home, other than being able to pull off great 1980s Beirut theme parties, it's that the guy running the show seems to know what he's doing. Not that either of us understand a word of what the other is saying, pigeons would be insulted at being associated with our language skills. Nevertheless, he seems entirely confident that we need that trench right there, and that securing that power cable would be an act of folly.
So, with our minds firmly at rest, euthanised most likely, we are going to leave our crumbling home in his capable hands, and head to the wilds of New Zealand for a month. My original worry about being burgled in our absence has been replaced by fretting about the far more likely possibility of being sued by the family of whatever poor misfortunate thief ends up starving to death at the bottom of one of the canyons our trusty builder has provided for us.
If you'll excuse me, I must go lie down.