Once in a while, it’s screaming/yelling Shake-Down time in this house. You all know what I mean. The kitchen is usually my first port of call when I’m on a tear, rubber gloves are snapped on angry fingers twitching for action. This is the time the sticky milk carton shelf of the fridge is cleaned. The salad drawer is emptied (Ew, what is that green mouldy thing? No idea but medical science might’ve found the cure for botulism.) I put my hands up, because I’m a writer, that my fridge is occasionally a biological hazard. The kitchen bin is nuked which means I’ve inhaled so much neat bleach I’ve lost my sense of smell. And the males in the family have left the building at a run.
This is the time I become known as Evil Mommy because nothing is sacred, the empty crisp packets and sweet wrappers down the side of the sofas are exposed (yes, and I know who put them there, and let me say your- days-are-numbered.) Sometimes in the sofa I get very lucky and find MONEY!
The DH’s study is shovelled out (due to a visit this week from BT to fit a new faster broadband thingy.) The dust bunnies had been breeding like rabbits and all I’m saying is it was not pretty. He found loads of great stuff including a motivational CD on leadership by Colin Powell. But the study’s pretty now, oh yes indeed it certainly is. I wouldn’t like to risk eating my dinner off the floor, but it’s not bad. The room looks twice its normal size and he’s doing all sorts of things in there, including playing with his new camera. And he found CD’s with old photos.
Which, because I feel nothing but love for you guys, I’m sharing some of the best bits – here: This is my spawn a few years ago in Malindi, Kenya.
Since my star sign is LEO, hear me roar! (The neighbours certainly did) Nothing is done by halves.
Next on the hit list was the main bathroom cupboard – I shed a fat tear at this point – how many empty shampoo bottles does a daughter need? And four full bottles of 2in1 Head& Shoulders? Someone with chronic dandruff obviously thought they’d got a deal – but they don’t live in this house!
Think of the movie Twister and it’ll give you an idea of the mayhem of Shake-Down. But how long does it last? Forty-eight hours? Then everything returns to its normal sorry state. Is it all worth it?
I was fine. I was calm and relaxed … until … I got into the car. (Those of you following this blog will know I’ve been u.n.w.e.l.l.) Not a car, it was a SKIP on wheels. DH sat very still, his head turned towards me, our eyes met. And he spoke the immortal words. “Sorry, I didn’t know you’d be out and about today or I’d have had it valeted.”
I opened my mouth to roar. Then I remembered that for over a year I haven’t made a single meal. He does all the food shopping and has looked after me above and beyond the marriage vows. He’s mastered the dishwasher, washing machine, tumble dryer, and iron etc., so that I’ve ‘got space and time to write and get well.’
I love this man, I just don’t tell him enough. So I’m going to try harder not to sweat the small stuff and to remember what’s important.
Do you guys take your loved ones for granted? When was the last time you told them thank you? And did you give them back the money you found down the side of the sofa?