Tag Archives: housework

Clean Washing

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There are two baskets of clean washing on my living room floor.

In my bedroom, there are two full baskets and three more are sitting outside my bedroom door (“tripping hazard!” says Mr Knightley). One of these baskets is full of unmatched children shoes, the rest have more clean washing.

I also discovered a basket of clean washing under the desk in the schoolroom/nursery/study and another in the boys’ room. There is a basket with dirty washing in the girls’ room, but I suspect it began life as a basket of clean washing, which got buried.

I figure I really should do something about this.  So I tipped one of the bedroom baskets into the other one.  Now I only have one basket of clean washing on my bedroom floor.

It feels good.

Oh, blog!  How I’ve missed you!  I’m sorry it’s been so long since I wrote to you.  I’ve been very busy not putting washing away.

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PM Essay

I’d like to start with a small apology to all the gentlemen who might be reading this (yes: both of you!)  This post will touch on the topic of – ahem! – hormones…

Most times of the month, I’m a fairly patient, laid-back, easygoing sort of person.  But, twelve times a year, I transform into a short-tempered, moody, destructive maelstrom.  Like a werewolf, but the sort that gets weepy watching superannuation commercials.

I’m a bit that way at the moment.  I’m feeling rather down on myself at the state of my house.  Two weeks of school holidays have taken their toll and the house is dysfunctional with mess.  It’s all dishes and clutter and Lego and loom bands and crumbs and random artefacts that look important yet seem to belong nowhere.

And clothes.  I think Strega Nona must have broken into my laundry and stirred my washing basket with her magic spoon.  Now I have so many dirty clothes, they’re spilling out the door.  It won’t be long before they take over the village…

Strega Nona with her pasta pot

I’ve been going a little nuts about it all.  Mr Knightley’s delightful-but-Type-A friend came over today and while I knew I couldn’t get the house to the level that Type A would consider ‘tidy’, I wanted at least to lift it out of the state of embarrassing neglect that made us look like the victims of a sock-and-duplo explosion.  As a result, I spent the morning venting and vacuuming and shouting and sweeping.  I bit everybody’s head off several times and, internally, I was biting my own head off (“What is WRONG with me?  WHY can’t I keep a tidy house?  How is it POSSIBLE that this many items can fit in the space under one couch?”) . I barked at Matilda for leaving her hardly-worn clothes on the school-room floor (she’d changed her mind on what to wear today, it would seem), roared at Christopher Robin for leaving his shoes all over the house, snapped at Harry for singing an inane song ad infinitum , wailed at Annie as she painted the table with cornflakes-and-milk, and ranted at the house in general about how hard it is to be me.

Mr Knightley, who had quietly wiped down the kitchen stove and benchtops, convinced me to stop for a minute and then swiftly administered coffee and chocolate.  It worked for a short time, but, really, I was beyond help.  It wasn’t long before I was again storming about the place, sometimes muttering darkly, sometimes screeching like a car alarm.  At lunch time, I snapped peevishly at Matilda, “that’s my seat!  Can’t you see my soup’s there already?”, but then I realised she was putting a note in my place.  Here it is:

Note from Matilda

If you can’t make out her handwriting, this is what it says:

“1 FREE NIGHT AT THE SPA

To Mum,

When you said “I was going to have a nice relaxing bath tonight but it’s too messy”  (I did say that last night, in another PMS-fuelled rant) I thought I’d give you this to say thanks for letting me have nice relaxing baths when I’m tired and worn out.  So I’ll clean the bathroom and you can borrow one of my Pippi soaps.

Love from

Tilly”

I felt rather small.  I had been awful to everyone all morning and my nine-year-old daughter still had the grace to treat me with generosity and understanding.  I gave her a fierce hug and cried copiously and surreptitiously into my soup.  But I’m fine, really I am.

Just don’t show me any superannuation commercials any time soon…

 

Art in August – Week -um- Two?

Phew!  It’s been a long time since I’ve sat down to my lovely laptop (or set up an ironing board, for that matter).  Things have been a little topsy-turvy in my world over the past couple of weeks.  My beautiful grandmother passed away a week and a half ago and the days that followed have been a big mess of eulogy-writing, funeral-planning, grieving, consoling, remembering, smiling and laughing.  Jan, Greg and Bobby all flew home and all six of us spoke at the funeral, which was just beautiful.

Mama's Wedding

I’m starting to feel now like my head is starting to come above water again and I’m finding comfort in the return of routine.  The dirty washing that was spilling out of the laundry door is now clean washing in several piles all over the kitchen table and family room couch, so that’s progress, I guess.

More importantly, I’ve ventured back into Blogland.  Oh, how I’ve missed you all!  I feel terrible for abandoning Art in August, when I was the one who started it up.  I figure I’ll just ignore the calendar and pick up where I left off, spilling into September if I need to.

Just to remind you, my fellow art bloggers are:

Naturally Cathy of The Plucky Parent,

Selene (セレネ) of Kawaii Kuni,

Red Lipstick Mama,

Michaela of the mmmmm family,

Allison Profeta of Allison Road,

Katy from Sourdough Lifestyle, and

Meghan from Mathair Fiona

Plus, since my last post, another blogger has joined in.  Ruby Doom from The Hippy Geek has done some most excellent rock painting which is definitely worth a look.

Here is my entry for week two.  It’s called “Vigil”

Vigil

I sat with Mama on the night she died.  It was a privilege to spend her last night by her side.  The room was filled with aromatherapy scents and peaceful music.  The nurses were quietly attentive to Mama’s needs.  There was such a feeling of peace and prayer in that room.

Thank you for your patience, lovely readers.  I’ll be back soon, I promise!