Happy peace day, peeps.

Yep, today is officially World Peace Day - you can find out all about it at www.peaceoneday.org - my gal pal Sarah, is helping to host an event at the aptly named, Peace Cafe here in Portsmouth, so I will be spending my Friday afternoon doing the following:
* haiku and poetry readings
* making my own trinkets and bracelets
* getting a massage
* tea-tasting
* having a tarot and psychic reading
* making a Wish for the World


I feel a bit bad actually, because what with it being a fight-free, no-raised-voices, all-about-the-peace day, I know that I really shouldn't have argued with The Man.
Still, as I've pointed out a million, gazillion times, I am a work in progress and it's only 9am, so I've got a whole day to put matters right.

He is making the biggest song and dance out of doing the hoovering.
This is his job. Along with cooking.
Mine is cleaning and washing up.
I do not like doing these things, in fact, I would much rather eat my own feet sometimes, but I know they need to be done and I do not complain. I am so positively fabulous and angelic and decide to make my tasks fun by using pink feather dusters, be-jewelled washing up gloves and Cillit Bang, because it comes in a pink bottle. (Thankfully, minus that annoying shouting man on the advert. Shh shouter.)
The Man does not embrace his tasks.
He fights them and makes them more difficult than they need to be. This makes him red-faced and aggro.
I mentioned this might not be the way forward, what with it being Peace Day and all, apparently that wasn't the right thing to say.
My bad.

But because it's Peace Day, now the hoovering is finished and The Man is now less stressed, I am making peace with him, because lets face it, if we don't get our peace on, then what chance have we got at persuading those big, control freak dudes that fighting is not cool and that peace is most deffo the way forward?

Exactly.