Shuffling deckchairs on the Titanic was more productive.

Is there anything more scintillating that reading about someone else re-organising their home? Without photos? I doubt it so stink it up dear readers, I doubt it gets much better than this. This is what the last two days have been for me.

Our living arrangement is the housing equivalent of the mini and the clowns at the circus.

As most of you know, our house is a living Ode to Ikea with quite an alter of Ivar shelving. GOD I hate Ivar shelving. What was bought as a cheap ‘until we have more money’ has now been the cornerstone of our decor since 1995. Yes, that is correct. 1995.

SO I tried to (finally) (after 14 years) paint some of them. My goal was to repaint our green wall blue, to paint the majority of Ivars in hi-gloss white and one in a bold canary yellow. I was attempting the canary yellow. It was a fail of epic proportions. I can’t go into it. I’m scared is all.

SO, I ditched that plan.

Instead, a 5×5 Expedite was moved from the hallway outside our room to serve as a room divider in our back room. The tall Ivars were then relocated to where the Expedite had lived and now houses all the books in the house  bar the cook books which form quite a display on the Expedite. Resplendent with strategically placed vintage Fowler bowls.

I know. My sense of style. Breathtaking.

The other side of the Expedite is home to crappe.

The Norbet (an Ikea sideboard) is now along the wall and home to lego (of course) and all the TV, gaming devices.

THEN – I realised the disaster shelves could work in the bigger boys’ room along with our vintage armchair recovered in… IKEA… fabric. So that happened.

Then I had to deal with the pavers out the back. A victim of the painting fiasco. A cause of major grief for particular family members. This involved a 3mx3m area, LOT of turps, a scrubbing brush and me. Yeah.

There are now a number of baskets and boxes of things that don’t fit anywhere. Our bedroom is a disaster zone.

Curiously the house is no bigger.

Oh, and there was tending to chickens and guinea pigs.









ding dong merrily I must be high…

So the other day you got me all trussed up like a turkey. This one’s just keepin’ it real.

Ding dong merrily I must be high. Also known as ‘putting up the Christmas tree’. from Kim at allconsuming on Vimeo.

Weird things I’ve done in the last couple of days

Bought three new fish for the fish tank, cleaned the tank and remembered to a) feed the fish and b) turn the light on in the fishtank
Shoveled dogshit into holes I’ve dug in the back garden more times than ever before in my life. (The pure hatred for these stupid animals and the rage I feel at having to do this, when I was assured by someone who keeps telling me how much they love me I would never have to do anything of the sort, is a whole post in and of itself.)
Answered the phone every time it’s rung.
Had a nana nap every day. Sometimes it’s only been for 10 minutes, but the other day I clocked up two hours (Grover is still feeding twice a night, like I needed an excuse).
Developed a new obsession – hand lettering. I’ve even started designing labels for my produce. My attempts so pathetic, so amateur I am appalled and reminded as to why I made a blanket rule for myself to preserve the meagre remaining shred of self-dignity by avoiding any form of ‘craft’ per se.
(people who are awesome at it include Linzie Hunter and Mike Perry)
Weeded part of the backyard. (WTF?)
The dishwasher carked it again AND I called the repair guy straight away, rather than saying I would for a few days if not weeks and then bitching about how long it took to get fixed. He came straight away. Was here for TWO hours fixing it and then apologised for not fixing it properly the first time. AND he didn’t charge me anything for it. So I gave him some of our strawberry jam and felt all noble-barter-like feelings of goodness.
Mopped the kitchen floor. (WTF? #2)
Cooked something new every day for a week.
Tonight I gave the boys left over lasagne that I’d frozen as individual serves a few weeks back. Sometimes my oc tendencies make me really proud. Chef and I then sat on the lounge in that collective tired haze you get as parents and debated what to eat for dinner. It ranged from takeaway pizza, through gnocchi with sage and butter (Chef) to other pasta solutions to those boxes of Macaroni Cheese you can buy where you simply add your bodyweight in saturated fats of choice until it’s thick and tastes nothing like macaroni cheese. I had a poached egg on a slice of spelt bread. It was OK.
I cut both the older boys hair today with the clippers. Oscar’s close to his scalp, same length all over. He can now *just* tolerate this. Any notion of getting his hair cut at a hairdresser or a barber makes him shake with fear. Felix’s wasn’t close to his scalp, just sort of the ends and the bit around the back. He’s got this pageboy Little Lord Fauntleroy or Little Boy Blue or whatever look about him now with which looks a darn sight better than the birdsnest that precluded it.