Well, since the new year began, I have well and truly fallen off the wagon of domestic upkeep. I blame this on many factors: Post Christmas blues, miserable, grey, cold English weather, or the bottom line....can't be bothered! It's a case of picking up the toys scattered across the livingroom floor at least six times a day! It wears you down! I manage to focus for ten minutes on washing the dirty dishes, just to return to the livingroom where my little cherub was quietly playing with his teaset, to find leaky-sippy-cup-juice mixed with crushed biscuit rubbed into the carpet. And so it continues, so for the last couple of weeks I have just buried my head in the laptop, cried on the broad shoulders of facebook, and ignored the ever-growing pile of dirty laundry and dust-fluff settling in every nook and cranny. That was until a few days ago.
Realisation kicks in when you're making a trip downstairs for the upteenth time to fish clean pants and socks from the ironing pile, just to find you're left with two options for the day: You either wear the same ones a third day running, or you nip down to Tesco to buy some more...Grim, I know, but true. And when, like my dear friend Dawn pointed out, the bedlinen starts walking itself to the washing machine, you know that it is time to face the hoover and dance! Even my 18 month old tried to tell me something when he removed his little Thomas the Tank Engine sleepsuit, and bundled it into the washing machine. So, armed with my marigolds, Pledge and Mister Muscle, I declared battle against the ever growing mold behind the bathroom curtains. And just to tip the battle into my favour, I drafted in the help of my ever faithful Elna (sewing machine extraordinaire!), to knock up some new trimmings for the bathroom...
Realisation kicks in when you're making a trip downstairs for the upteenth time to fish clean pants and socks from the ironing pile, just to find you're left with two options for the day: You either wear the same ones a third day running, or you nip down to Tesco to buy some more...Grim, I know, but true. And when, like my dear friend Dawn pointed out, the bedlinen starts walking itself to the washing machine, you know that it is time to face the hoover and dance! Even my 18 month old tried to tell me something when he removed his little Thomas the Tank Engine sleepsuit, and bundled it into the washing machine. So, armed with my marigolds, Pledge and Mister Muscle, I declared battle against the ever growing mold behind the bathroom curtains. And just to tip the battle into my favour, I drafted in the help of my ever faithful Elna (sewing machine extraordinaire!), to knock up some new trimmings for the bathroom...
Now, I can slowly feel the force of the blogging vortex sucking at my heels as I'm writing, so before another day dissapears into the triangle of unproductivity, I am
heading off to battle with the cooker. Grease is a tough job, but somebody has to do it...
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