Industrious

It’s taken until August for me to even consider tackling the shit-fight this house has become in terms of crap being everywhere.
Bathrooms have been scrubbed and for once the boys bathroom doesn’t smell like a public urinal within hours of me cleaning it.
Our bedroom has been cleaned and vacuumed for the first time in, well, let’s just say it’s been a long time.
The bigger boys’ bedroom has been cleaned and more importantly tidied regularly.
The dining room table is clear. As in, you could eat at any spot at the table, as opposed to just the third at the end not covered in mail/school notes/newspapers/toys.
And yesterday?
Yesterday involved me finally facing the littler boys’ bedroom.
Oh sure, it wasn’t a minefield of Lego, Pokemon and Thunderbirds (none of which deserve a capital in my opinion but more a charity bin of clothing. Everywhere.
There were five bags of clothing for a child aged 0-1. FIVE.
They have all been bundled to go to my cousin who just had her second child and her first boy. Mwahahahaha.
A garbage bag full of bunny rugs, wraps, play mats, sleeping bags.
The rest has been sorted into sizes 2 through 6 and into summer and winter.
It took a large portion of the day. Hours I’ll never get back.
But now?
Now you can walk into their room without having to kick anything out of the way.
Wow.
Of course, this cleansing cleaning had a domino effect (or should that be affect?).
It meant the linen cupboard had be to dealt with.
Two stuffed garbage bags of old towels, face washes, tablecloths … snore … sorry, where was I? Oh year, lots of stuff cleaned out. All the swimming gear fits back in there now. As opposed to living in those big Ikea blue bags in the hallway. Which had been shitting me to tears for oh, 12 months.
And then?
The new dishwasher had arrived on Friday and Chef in a new found fit of male handimadnness installed it.
But it meant the cupboard under the sink had to be emptied.
The cupboard under the sink is our plastics junkyard place. So there was a massive throw-out enterprise there as well.
Then I fell down the hallway steps (of which there’s two) carrying Grover, half a cup of (cold) tea, an empty bottle and a roll of garbage bags due to slipping on the pile that had come out of his room to be washed.
Tea all over me, the walls and the bags (luckily closed) for the charity bin.
A very sore hip (now with golf-ball sized lump and surrounding bruising), knee, elbow and lower back.
A crying baby.
Lots of lovely boys running from everywhere to check I was OK.
A rare entire Saturday and night with Chef home.
Homemade pizzas
A scheduled date night with Chef
Which ended with me falling asleep while putting Jasper to bed and only waking when Chef came in at 11.

Can you believe that after no posting you got one about me cleaning?

Things that have been shitting me to tears

  • That every person I see driving a BMW x7 or the Audi equivalent are agressive, speeding road hogs. And generally male and aged in their forties. I’m just saying.
  • The mothers who don’t have to get in the pool with their kids for their swimming lesson but insist on using the change room to get them dressed afterwards (I’m talking kids who are three or four and are still in that land of not caring about being naked in public). Thereby hogging all the space that technically should be reserved for those of us dripping wet harridans who are fucking cold and need to get dressed without some three year old little shit perving on us.
  • That the floor of the change room has a layer of water on it. I am of the belief it should not be an extension of the pool itself.
  • Everyone whinging about the price of petrol. Either get over it or catch a fucking bus. JESUS.
  • The price of diesel.
  • That you get side-effects from taking too bigger dose of your meds just like you do when you first start taking them that make you feel as shitty as you were feeling when you weren’t taking them.
  • That my meds have not been working.
  • That I now have to take one lot of meds in the morning and a different one in the evening.
  • To counter the negative effects the one in the morning are having on me.
  • Mental health.
  • Sibling fighting.
  • I keep forgetting to buy tonic water.
  • Traffic.
  • The current state of our house.
  • The amount of washing I need to do.
  • The amount of washing I need to hang out.
  • The amount of washing I need to put away.
  • This goddamn headache that I’ve had for about three weeks.
  • My weight.
  • That I can’t find the right chocolate to hit the spot of my current chocolate need.
  • The amount of chocolate I’m consuming anyway to find that elusive chocolate.
  • That potato chips are fattening.
  • 3am.
  • Dogs.
  • That the fish tank needs cleaning.
  • Storage issues and a lack of solutions.
  • Our laundry.
  • That I push four kids out my fanny and never got a private room or a room with views of the harbour bridge and city skyline or a seven day hospital stay.
  • That I paid $41 for a seven day hospital parking pass when this evening I discovered I could just have mis-used our disabled parking sticker and parked for free every single visit irrespective of Oscar being with me.
  • Car parks.
  • Having to do the grocery shop and put it all away.
  • How no matter how many times I vacuum our $100 Ikea rug in one day it is covered in food crumbs and fluff in minutes.
  • Cleaning toilets.
  • Grouting.


* Chef have his skin graft operation yesterday afternoon. He’s in the burns and plastics ward which is very shmick with city views and a level of sterility I want to roll around in. Granted, he has two wound sites, one of which hurts like hell as they’ve basically shaved skin off his body and he has to lie on his back for five days and shit in a bedpan and piss into a bottle, but hell, I’d do that for seven days respite.