Saturday, January 17, 2009

Home Run

I have sneaked upstairs while the floor downstairs is drying. Sneaked away from who? Well, no one, of course, seeing as I'm my own boss of de house, but old habits die hard, even ones from 30yrs ago. I find it very annoying to find these subconscious issues banging me on the nose when they have no business to be doing so.

Regular readers of this blog will know that I hate housework but that I do it anyway because I'm not a total slob. However, it really grates because I'm having to force myself to put hoover to floor, mop to water and duster to dust. Naturally, I feel guilty at having such a negative attitude to something so banal, but it's the relentless inevitability of it - that and having two boys in the house who are champion mess-makers.

So I battle on, but feel a small victory of relief when a wet floor obliges me to take a break upstairs. I could, of course, be cleaning upstairs too, but I did that the other day (except for hoovering my room thanks to that damned XBox wifi widget thingy), and it hasn't got so bad it needs another bash.

Yesterday, Ulysse infuriated me by catching a mouse and then puking the whole thing up on the floor, followed by a running puking tour around the house for good measure. I felt like puking myself as I cleared it up. My only consolation is that he kept off the beds and the Persian rug. Otherwise he might have ended up a non-cat... My eldest, ever one to wind me up, phoned me to let me know that Ulysse had done this, but declined, politely, my suggestion that he clear it up.

Today he phoned me to let me know that his bike had torn his trousers to shreds, not that I was going to do anything about it. I must get him out of this 'semi-crisis' call habit. Not only is there no point because I'm not going to rush about sorting it out, but it irritates the hell out of me knowing that there is an unpleasant thing awaiting me.

He will be forbidden from calling unless the house is on fire. I don't want to know about vomiting cats, torn trousers, spilt milk (unless it's on the sofa in which case CLEAR IT UP NOW!), XBox issues, muddy shoes, derailed bike chains or any other minor problem.

I do want to know about fire, broken bones, burglary and car theft. That's about it really. I would dash home for those real crises. Anything else can wait, no?

Further suggestions on a postcard please.


  1. I for one consider your post a RANT. But it was funny. Your humor is in the right place. Thanks of laugh and thoughts of the past.

  2. Well I suppose a rant can be constructive in some ways, no? Get things of your chest if nothing more.

    However, I did not really see it as a rant - just a "tranche de vie".


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