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Friday, November 06, 2009
Written 15th July 2007
The Boy and I have been a picture of domestic bliss today. We got up early and had coffee and croissants outside in the sunshine, then while I washed the dishes he went to Homebase to buy a edge trimmer. When he came back he mowed the lawn, while I did some weeding and raked up the leaves from the tree in our garden that thinks autumn lasts from October to August.
Then I did some housework while the Boy watched the golf. All very nice and civilised.
However, underneath this veneer of happy industriousness, runs an undercurrent of brooding menace. because at various points throughout the day I have been sorely tempted to use the Boy's new toy to surgically remove both his hands. I figure he would be tidier that way. I mean, if he was limited to only picking things up with his teeth, he couldn't leave ALL HIS WORDLY POSSESSIONS on the kitchen table. I wouldn't say I was houseproud but I like things to be in their place and I get a warm fuzzy glow from a clean, tidy surface, free from clutter.
Examples of things that have irritated me today: - I cleaned and tidied the kitchen (which is where all the clutter in our house seems to end up eventually) from top to bottom. The Boy comes in from the garden to unpack his strimmer. There are various plastic bags, some pieces of string, an instruction manual, some polystyrene, and a big cardboard box. He puts all this stuff onto the freshly cleaned kitchen table. AND LEAVES IT THERE. All day. I have to nag him to tidy it away, which he finally does about five hours after putting it there.
- After finishing the kitchen, I go outside to start my weeding, and trip over the strimmer cable (narrowly avoiding breaking my nose in the process), which has been left strewn over the back step while the Boy has a fag break.
- I find three fag ends while weeding. House Rule Number 3 states that all cigarette butts should be disposed of in a BIN.
- I cleaned the kitchen worktops for the second time, and 10 minutes later the Boy spilled his coffee on them, and didn't clean it up.
- I dusted the coffee table only to come in five minutes later to find a certain Boy with his BARE FEET (ew) up on said table, and a half-eaten chocolate digestive biscuit balanced on the edge, liberally dispensing crumbs.*
- I moved a whole pile of random crap from the hall table, and put it all away neatly. Random crap now sitting on the hall table: a wallet, a small pile of 2 pences, a pair of sunglasses, a lighter and an ipod cable.
- After vacuuming and mopping the floors, I catch the Boy tramping through the house with his grass-covered shoes on, leaving a trail of grass cuttings from the back door to the front.
I sometimes wonder if he does it deliberately. I constantly find things that need put away or tidied up, and I do it without even thinking. But the Boy? He doesn't seem to notice that he can only sit at one end of the sofa because there's a pile of stuff at the other end. He can ignore a dust bunny for days. Weeks even. He somehow managed to get chilli sauce all over one of the kitchen cupboards last night, and he didn't notice (I mean it was all over the door, at head height. HOW?). I cleaned it off this morning, and I said to him 'how on earth did you manage to get chilli on the cupboard', and he said 'oh, did I?'
Speechless.
*Who stops eating a chocolate digestive halfway through anyway? It's not like you need a break before you can face another two mouthfuls of deliciousness. Labels: Garden, How Annoying, Hubby, tales from the draft folder
 
Sunday, April 15, 2007
It's been a busy ol week. I saw my mammy on Wednesday night, as I do every week. On Thursday night we had an unexpected trip to the vet with Coco, who was looking decidedly peaky.* On Friday I went to see Swan Lake on ice (which was spectacular), and yesterday afternoon we went to a lovely stationery shop and met the nicest girl ever, who's going to make wedding invitations like the ones I fell in love with, for a fraction of the price. I'm considering asking her if she'll marry me, instead of the Boy. She wouldn't fart in Tesco and blame it on me. *She's fine now. In fact, she was fine about 10 minutes after we got her home from the vet, the little bisom. Last night I went out with the Drama Queen, and what seemed like half the population of Brussels, to celebrate her birthday. I met the lovely Petifilou, and Phoenix (currently blog-free but hopefully not for long). It was the first time I've met other bloggers - Queenie doesn't count as she is a pre-blog friend - and it was lovely to meet them and put a face to the online persona. I was a little nervous because it's a unique experience - it's weird to know so much about people you've never met, and for them to know about you, and then to be in a room with them for the first time. But it's nice too, it kind of felt like the four of us were part of a secret society. Apart from Queenie and the Boy, none of my friends know about my blog so I didn't really know what to expect, meeting other bloggers in the company of people who don't know about this part of my life. But it was fine. And then of course, I had to start talking about farting didn't I - one area where my online persona and my real personality converge.** **Honestly though, there was a guy in the pub on Saturday night that must've had some kind of condition. One drawback to the smoking ban - BO and other people's farts. Bleeurgh. Today the Boy and I pottered about the house and garden and ate lots of nice food. I'm pleased to report that my carrots have sprouted. I went out to water them with my pink elephant today (which is not a euphemism, my watering can is shaped like an elephant), and was highly excited to see some green shoots coming through. Hopefully the shoots are actual carrots, and not weeds, but we shall see. I meant to take a picture as proof but by the time I remembered it was dark, so you'll just have to take my word for it. My bed has fresh sheets on it, and I'm about to start a new book. If only I didn't have to get up for work tomorrow it would be perfect. Labels: blogs, Farting, Garden, weekend
Saturday, April 07, 2007
My garden seems to have noticed that it's spring, and is growing quite enthusiastically. It was starting to look a bit wildernessy so we went out this afternoon and attacked it with the lawnmower and various other implements that were lurking in the back of the shed (most of them housewarming gifts, all of them untouched since we moved in). Despite our lack of any horticultural skills we managed to beat the triffids into submission, and make it look half decent. Then I went all housewifely and did lots of washing, which I hung in our newly-tidy garden to dry, picked up all the grass cuttings that the Boy had tracked between the front and back doors, and then cleaned the kitchen. So much for a holiday weekend. I'm bloody knackered - my arms feel all weak and wibbly, and my back is aching. But look! 
No silver bells, or cockle shells and certainly no pretty maids all in a row, but don't it look tidy?! And aren't I just the little domestic goddess?! The only fly in the ointment is that Carrot Watch 2007 is in danger of grinding to a halt. No progress whatsoever. Not a sausage! I would post a picture if there was anything to report. Instead, here's what I found when I came in from the garden, hunched over, shiny faced, and covered in grass stains - my cat Roo having a snooze on the kitchen table:  I know it doesn't look like it, but she has a really hard life you know.  (This is her pitiful, 'deprived cat' pose, the one she adopts whenever someone new comes into the house.) Labels: Cats, Garden
Monday, March 26, 2007
Well, hello. I've missed you. I'm sorry I left you - it doesn't mean I don't love you. I've not really been up to anything in particular - I've just been doing things. The kind of things I could do easily at any time of day if I didn't have to sit at a desk looking busy for 8 hours a day. Like cleaning my house, co-ordinating the wedding plans*, cooking a batch of fajitas of which the Boy ate so many he nearly made himself sick, and, let's be honest, sitting on my arse watching DVD's. *Which at the moment seems to involve various people saying 'have you thought of this' or 'what are you going to do about that?' and then leaving me to sort out the actual doing side of things. Maybe it's because spring is in the air, but I'm feeling quite restless at the moment. I feel kind of... cramped. My job is ok, it pays the bills, but it doesn't exactly set the heather alight. I love our house, I feel like I've lived there for years, but that doesn't mean I wouldn't love a big house in the country. I love my cats, but I am desperate to get a dog. In short, I just feel unsettled. I have no reason to be unhappy - and I'm not, at all, I know how lucky I am to have what I have - I suppose it boils down to the fact that I wish I could find a more fulfilling job. I'd love to be a writer, but I have terrible trouble extracting the little straggly bits of stories that float around in the dark emptiness of my brain, and putting them down on paper. I love animals, but there's no way I could work with them because I'm allergic to most of our furry friends (and I think I'd have a breakdown if I ever had to put one down). I'd like to be my own boss but I have no skills that I could easily utilise, and no money to start a business. Roll on the sweaty listlessness of summer, when I can just be glad that I don't work in the kitchen at McDonald's. In other news, I've also taken my first shaky steps on the road to becoming green fingered. Behold, the first installment of Carrot Watch 2007:  These will hopefully become my first crop of home-grown vegetables. I may have run out of compost by the time I got to the second tray, and I may only have a watering can in the shape of a pink elephant with googly eyes, but I am determined to produce something. Even if it's only one carrot, it's something to build on. Of course, if I only yield one carrot per crop it's going to be a long time till dinner. Labels: Garden, Life, Work
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