Things my Mother Forgot to Mention

Well the mouse problem is solved. Found Jimmy, fossilised, as I moved the sofa out to fix the curtain. Probably died of gluttony. The girls buried him in a plot next to the goldfish. They love a good funeral.

I did lots of boring bits today; prepared the evening roast, fixed the vacuum so it actually picks up the dirt now, took the dog to the beach (so he could gather more sand in his coat to sabotage the vacuum again), hid the good bits of the supermarket delivery from my brood (so it can last out the week), and sorted through the weekly wash load.

Trouble is, I'll only have to repeat most of the above (in slight variation) all over again, tomorrow.

It's pretty hard to feel any lasting sense of achievement.

So I checked the lotto, no jackpot waiting. Checked my blog, no book deal offered. Checked the bills, no money left. Fed up checking. Obviously, plan of sitting around, waiting to be rescued has dismally failed.

So I've drawn up a list of other possible avenues:

1) Rob a bank. This could have one of two possible scenarios. a) I'll be rich, and manage to employ someone else to fix the vacuum, or b) I'll be locked up for a very long time, and someone else will have to fix the vacuum.

2) Have a lobotomy, thus becoming not only incapable of fixing vacuum, but gain the advantage of being beyond caring.

3) Bin the vacuum every fourth Sunday, and purchase a new one. Bankruptcy might follow, leading to divorce, and children taken into care. I would no longer have a house, nor the need for a vacuum.

4) Teach every other family member how to fix vacuum, and learn to loudly nag, threaten, and blackmail better. (Probably less exhausting, to just fix the damned vacuum myself.)

5) Shave dog, thus eliminating cause to fix vacuum.

6) Bin all rugs/carpets, buy sweeping brush.

7) Throw vacuum out, live in splendid squalor.

Not sure which one to opt for yet, all but no.4, seem pretty appealing.

(Do you think it's called a vacuum because that's what using it turns your brain in to??)

Anyway, thanks for the chat, but I can't stop on here all day - I've got four shitty loo's, and a blocked up sink calling.. catch 'ya later.

Life's too Short

"You're not much of a cleaner, are you?"

I'd be tempted to ram my sponge-scourer straight down the gullet of anyone less, but coming as it does from Sweet Sam, it was all I could do to keep a straight face. I took the basin carrying various sprays and detergents from him that I'd left sitting a-top of his loo, "Sorry love, I meant to clean your bathroom today, but I forgot."

"Well you should write it down then!"

It's not that I haven't cleaned his bathroom, he doesn't give a hoot about that, it's that I had the temerity to clutter up his space with alien objects. But that aside, I do have this tendency to flit from one task to another, I always mean to finish what I start, but it doesn't always work out that way particularly if the task involved is cleaning (spit). I leave the kids to pick up their own rooms, if they want to live in squalor, that's their choice. Since they are usually embarrassed enough to clear a space for when friends are due, it's never fallen to the point of fumigation. I'm perfectly happy to ignore the top layers of dust around the house, vacuuming is usually reserved for the threat of visitors descending. Mind you, I'm not an entire slut, all the loos get scrubbed once a month, need it or not.

This week I've been shamed into neatness because the window-cleaner is due round. Don't you just hate that? Normally I'd be happy to simply draw the curtains and be done with it, but as he also does the inside, it wouldn't serve much purpose (except to hide the dirt a bit). Besides, he's not only any old window cleaner, his step daughter and my eldest once used to be an item together, and I'm not entirely sure (it's hard for me to keep up sometimes), but as he did bring her over for lunch last Sunday, I think they might be together again. In truth, the prospect of having her step-dad inspecting every room in my house is the last of my worries - my big sis is coming to stay soon, she of the cleaning lady and no kids at home. Much as I love her, I've managed to fool her for years I'm a neat freak, I'm hardly about to blow my cover now.

Yes, okay, I'm a sad old sack really, just don't tell anyone. I shouldn't be sitting here chatting to you lot at all, since I still have half of Beccy's bedroom to finish up (she's in England at present, I have no choice but to do it myself). Guess I must press on.. after I make a phone call or two. Actually, come to think of it, I really do need to make a trip into town today, not to mention drop that laptop Bec spilt a can of coke over last week, in to the shop.. and that's before I even think about what to make for supper tonight. Ah, what the hell, I still have another days grace to get around to the cleaning.

(Wink.)