What a week it has been so far. My husband has taken a week’s holiday this week so that we can redecorate our hall, stairs and landing. Safe to say tensions have been running high and the house is pretty much chaos.
Puppy still isn’t 100% either. So dog pee and gourmet food daily still seems to be the order of the day. we have tried getting him to eat his normal dog food but he just refuses to eat it. I need to find an alternative for him that isn’t going to be too rich for his digestion that he will eat.
Its bad enough coming down each morning to pee on the carpet but if I woke up to the waft of s**t coming up the stairs I do not think I could face the day. No one wants to face that first thing in the morning. I am not a morning person at the best of times. Even the children know that they will not receive any response from me until I have had at least two cups of tea.
Safe to say if there was an inkling of crap on the carpet I would hide under the covers like a five year old who thinks there is a monster in their room.
Anyway, so the redecorating is going well… he is doing a fabulous job. We are doing the work together, I am not a lady who is incapable of using a brush however, after three days of painting blasted woodwork I am sick of the sight of white gloss and I am running the risk of suffering an RSI injury in my right wrist. HA!
Apologies my inner teenager started to break through there for a moment. Don’t worry I have put her back in her box. She chooses the most inappropriate times to make an appearance. Such as weddings, funerals, family meals and meetings with teachers. Luckily my family is used to her now. They know that when she comes out to play no subject of conversation or sentence is safe from being warped in my brain to something that is highly hilarious.
It can be really difficult with older members of the family. They try and engage in a really sensible conversation and yet I end up giggling like a school girl because they have said “erect” or something of that ilk. We could be talking about replacing a fence but my mind is quite obviously a sewer.
It does mean that talking to people is never dull.
Today something infuriating happened to my husband and yet I was crying with laughter, I tried so hard to hold it back but I found it so funny I could not contain myself. SO my husband was dealing with some personal admin today which required him to call every person’s favourite place…a call centre.
In fairness to him he had tried to have a conversation with whoever may answer the phone several times and had been placed in a que several times all resulting in him being cut off for some reason. each time he called his place in the que was getting bigger. Initially, I think he started at 3, then 5,6, 9 and finally 10th in the cue.
So anyway, he was waiting patiently to speak to a human when suddenly the machine asks him for an extension number (which he didn’t have). I was upstairs painting the bannister and hand rail when all of a sudden I hear my husband shouting at this machine using very colourful language. Clearly the machine didn’t appreciate being called all the names under the sun as she promptly informed him that she did not understand his request and cut him off!!!
Everyone hates trying to get through to call centres but honestly the sound that resonated from my husband at this point was the most animalistic fury fuelled growl I have ever heard…and yet I am upstairs, tears rolling down my cheeks, choking on my own laughter (I didn’t want to anger the beast more) for abut half an hour. After half an hour I ventured downstairs, look at my husband who is sat on hold again seething and I was off again cackling like a woman possessed.
Sorry that is a long winded story but I found the whole experience hilarious and luckily when he saw me laughing he saw the funny side and was much calmer when he managed to reach a human at the end of the line.
In other news, lockdown starts again tomorrow.
I am not sure why but I have recently found myself thinking a lot about a play that I studied in secondary school. The play was called “When an Inspector Calls” and for some reason, when I am reflecting it keeps popping in to my head. As a character gauge for myself.
“Who were you today Mumma? Were you Arthur, Sybil, Sheila, Gerald, Eric or the Inspector? Which ones were your children today?” Is that strange? Probably, never mind hey.
Having said that, that train of thought often leads to “what’s in the box?”
Most often I think I am Sheila. I suffer with envy on a daily basis about silly things. There is always a pattern of feeling envious about someone’s lifestyle, energy or career which triggers my anxiety about whether or not I am doing enough for my children, whether I am teaching them and preparing them for the future in terms of responsibilities, whether the house is clean and tidy, what I am going to cook (only joking, I rarely cook) etc. We all know the list is endless.
The goal for this week is to get the decorating finished, I have bought new internal door handles which I am very excited to have fitted. Impatience is a terrible flaw because I want it finished now but there is still a fair way to go. Its irritating to be married to a perfectionist sometimes. He isn’t often a perfectionist but when it comes to decorating he can be really irritating whereas I am more in the camp of can you see it from a distance, if not then its fine, stop looking and no one will see it.
There was a lesson of life in my ramblings somewhere, but I cannot remember what it was.
Maybe it was that we should all indulge our inner child sometimes. Maybe we should live our lives pretending we are the leading lady in our favourite plays or books.
Mumma Bear Roars 