It's possible that the monotonous nature of the weather has led me to miss the significance of just how long it is since son Matt last lived at Madmum's Cottage.
When you add up the time spent on police bail and the fact that we are now in Week Four of his entry, hopefully, into the real world via bedsit life, we actually have eight weeks, give or take a day or two.
The bail was two separate chunks with a couple of days in between. Basically, within 48 hours of the first bail period ending, which included a condition that he stay away from my home, he stole my credit card and tried to use it, so ending up in trouble again.
As you know, he did not return after the second bail deal - lasting three weeks - other than to collect his telly and clothes.
On Friday last week he phoned and asked for a favour. Would I just run a bag of his clothes through my washing machine?
There is a shared kitchen in bedsit land with all the necessary appliances, but he has not conquered it and was scared of putting the wrong things in together after looking at the various label instructions.
All his clothes were filthy, he explained, having not been washed since he was banned from my home at the start of what we might call 'Bail One'.
Don't ask me why, but I said it was possible, just this once. Really, I do know why. It's because, even after everything, I wish him to survive, find himself and move into some sort of sane world.
If that happens there is a chance that in the future we might be able to forge some kind of relationship, not perfect by any means but without all the poison and heartbreak.
So I haven't totally written him off. It's just better for now that he is at a distance.
As soon as I said the washing could be done, and returned dry but not ironed, he started dictating terms of how I would collect it and exactly when it must be back with him as he had a busy weekend planned and needed the lot done by 3pm on the Saturday. He rattled off the 'deal' as orders. Here we go again, with him trying to control my movements.
So I said sorry, but in that case he would have to find someone else to help as I'd plans of my own that didn't work with his.
I then switched off my phone until evening, when he came back on the line.
This time the plea was still for help with the washing, but minus all the instructions on time, collection and delivery.
So I ended up doing three machineloads for him. If I could just wash away the last few years as well we might get somewhere.