Oh my goodness, it’s been two weeks since I last blogged. This means I’ve fallen short of my own expectations but I did console myself by identifying with Phoebe in an episode of Friends that I saw earlier this week. She describes Monica as being ‘high maintenance’ and Rachel as being a ‘pushover’. They both take this negatively and insist that they are not. When they tell Pheobe she is ‘flaky’, she agrees. She doesn’t take it as positive or negative, she just accepts that that’s the way she is. So – I miss blogging for a few weeks, hey I guess I’m flaky too. I did get a bit teary later on in that episode when Chandler admits he thinks Monica is a bit high maintenance. Monica is straight into denial again until Chandler tells her its because she’s passionate etc, etc (he does quite a long speech but I can’t remember all the details, probably due to my flakiness) and ends by saying that it’s one of the reasons they are so good together because he likes maintaining her. Oh how perfect.
I’ve missed several Zumba sessions lately, too. Flaky, flaky.
Interestingly, I have had four views from the US whilst not posting and another person has reached my blog while searching for ironing. Maybe if I wrote ten blogposts about ironing then didn’t blog for a month my ratings would be boosted. Oh, that wouldn’t work because all the people who only read when I post a new blog wouldn’t be viewing. Flaky thinking.
Well, so much has happened in two weeks its hard to know where to start. One big change is that D1 is now living in university halls. Froddo and I helped her moved in and all seems fine except I am a little concerned over the toilet facilities (or the lack of them). It appeared that there was just one toilet for about eight rooms and it is down a flight of stairs from the rooms/kitchen corridor. I wanted to ask the boys in the kitchen if they could shed any light on the toilet situation but D1 was totally against this idea and became a little irate when I tried to investigate further by wandering around the corridor trying to work out what was behind each door. Following the advice I was given at camp, I suggested she invest in a bucket. That did not go down well either. She has since told me that there is another toilet off the corridor and at least one en-suite room. This could be true or she could be making this up in case I ring the accommodation office for information and if the toilet I saw is the only one she might think I’ll start making a fuss. Of course I wouldn’t do this even though I would be tempted to. I have got the message that this sort of thing is seen as parental interference rather than concern for a fellow human being. In my experience, practical issues, such as having to walk down a flight of stairs to use a toilet shared by eight + people in the middle of the night, are not highlighted to concerned parents. Everyone talks about alcohol, drugs, junk food, study stress, financial difficulties…….. but toilets, not so much.
D1’s move from home has cut down the number of ‘leaving bits of toast in the butter’ suspects. To be fair she has always been an outside suspect due to her frequent complaints whenever she lifts the lid off the tub and finds brown crunchy bits in there. Son is also an outside suspect as he very rarely butters toast. I am very particular about having uncontaminated butter so I know it’s not me. That leaves Froddo as number one suspect. He doesn’t out-rightly deny its him but when questioned he says things like “I don’t think it was me” or “What makes you think it was me?” and his tone of voice hints that any discussion about it will lead to an argument. Perhaps coincidently, the butter is toast free for a couple of weeks after it’s been drawn to his attention.
In other news from the kitchen, Son was almost caught up in an unusual situation. We were away from home for two days with D1, leaving Son home alone. Having failed to wash up the breakfast dishes on the morning we left and Son’s tendency to eat cereal for both breakfast and evening snack, the situation arose where there were NO clean bowls in the house. No doubt he would have broken his cereal habit and turned to some other food rather than attempt to wash up. After many years of trying an array of rota systems, payment by results and hours of negotiating I gave up trying to engage my children in household tasks quite a while ago.
I wrote the preceeding section of this blogpost whilst babysitting. Baby was sleeping. I was not ignoring him whilst I concentrated on writing. I save that for when I want a break from Froddo. When baby was awake he enjoyed several games of ‘grab the glasses’. I was so enamoured with his giggles that I instigated the game sometimes. As someone whose glasses often fall off anyway, I didn’t mind Baby throwing them to the floor. I do hope if he tries it with someone else they take it in good spirit. With hindsight it may not have been the best thing to encourage him. Find of the day was a cannister labelled TREATS. I only meant to have a quick peek inside but the sight of hundreds (that might be a slight overestimation but there were lots) of assorted sweets and lollipops made me giddy and before I knew it was unwrapping a toffee wrapped in shiny blue paper and popping it in my mouth at great speed. I quickly put the lid back on. For a moment I felt that rush of excitement and guilt I’d felt as a teenager when my friend and I raided the alcohol cupboard when we were babysitting. We were asked back so I assume the parents never realised a centimetre of drink was missing from each bottle of spirit.
Next installment will feature a weekend in the Peak District and the camarderie of car drivers.