I have a disability.
I have a vacuuming disability.
No matter how hard I try, no matter how much I think about it before I begin I, for some reason, always end up vacuuming backwards.
Now in the great scheme of things vacuums are meant to follow along behind you as you move. When you are vacuum disabled and vacuum backwards this does not work. You constantly have to shove the vacuum backwards with your foot as you move. This of course ensures that the vacuum will get tangled in the cord and will not actually go anywhere, rendering one's foot rather sore. Usually at this point in time I try to establish correct vacuuming position by turning around. This usually results in having the hose wound around my legs rendering me incapable of moving. And so it continues.
Boy child has been known to watch me vacuum for his own amusement - he enjoys it when I vacuum when he has friends over. Then he can prove to them how stupid his mother is.
So after years of trying to correct my vacuuming technique I have recently decided not to bother anymore. The angst of knowing I do something against all known rules of the universe is beginning to sit more comfortably with me. I feel like I am finally a rebel!
Besides which if you schedule the vacuuming for 15 minutes before the commencement of happy hour - who actually gives a f#ck?????
Adios!
Saturday, July 26, 2008
Friday, July 25, 2008
The Blog with the Independence
Something very odd happened today. Something very odd indeed. Something that as a mother I have asked for over and over and over again in the space of boy child's almost 15 years existance.
"When are you going to GROW UP?"
Today I realised he has. He can forage in the kitchen now and usually find something edible if I am not around. He has worked out how to get the most wear out of undergarments by turning them inside out and back to front. He notices when there is no toilet paper left or the shampoo has run out (I say "notice" because in my experience men dont translate the "notice" bit to the "do something about it" bit until they hit the age of around...... um...... dead). He has a better social life than I do.
All this of course adds up to the fact that the role I have played for the last 15 years has become redundant. I am no longer needed (except being provider of cash of course). He no longer wants me to kiss his skinned knee, or hold him in the middle of the night after a nightmare or rub his back to sleep. I am apparently no longer responsible for his school holiday/weekend activities, to a certain extent he comes and goes from my life like a spring breeze.
Am I sad? Am I sitting here melancholy and wiping away tears that a chapter in my life is closing?
Not on your BLOODY LIFE!!
WOO HOOOOOOOOOOOOOO - I go out for dinner with my girls - I go to the movies - I am kicking up my heels and doing the party dance like I have never done the party dance before! Without so much as a "mmmm need to organise a babysitter" thought in my head I am making plans left right and centre. After 15 goddamn years of getting up in the middle of the night to assure boy child that no monster is under his bed I sleep ALL night!
So it was dinner out last night - movies tonight to see Sex and the City.
Why then do I feel a little part of me has left?
"When are you going to GROW UP?"
Today I realised he has. He can forage in the kitchen now and usually find something edible if I am not around. He has worked out how to get the most wear out of undergarments by turning them inside out and back to front. He notices when there is no toilet paper left or the shampoo has run out (I say "notice" because in my experience men dont translate the "notice" bit to the "do something about it" bit until they hit the age of around...... um...... dead). He has a better social life than I do.
All this of course adds up to the fact that the role I have played for the last 15 years has become redundant. I am no longer needed (except being provider of cash of course). He no longer wants me to kiss his skinned knee, or hold him in the middle of the night after a nightmare or rub his back to sleep. I am apparently no longer responsible for his school holiday/weekend activities, to a certain extent he comes and goes from my life like a spring breeze.
Am I sad? Am I sitting here melancholy and wiping away tears that a chapter in my life is closing?
Not on your BLOODY LIFE!!
WOO HOOOOOOOOOOOOOO - I go out for dinner with my girls - I go to the movies - I am kicking up my heels and doing the party dance like I have never done the party dance before! Without so much as a "mmmm need to organise a babysitter" thought in my head I am making plans left right and centre. After 15 goddamn years of getting up in the middle of the night to assure boy child that no monster is under his bed I sleep ALL night!
So it was dinner out last night - movies tonight to see Sex and the City.
Why then do I feel a little part of me has left?
Friday, July 11, 2008
The Blog with Random Thoughts
Random thoughts from the random recesses of my mind.
I have at least once in my life:-
Pulled in behind a car in the far lane at a set of traffic lights. Violently applied pressure to horn and let fly choice swear words when car did not move when light turned green. Realised that car was in fact parked and empty. Exited car expressing to anybody in immediate vicinity that I should really have that defective horn looked at. Had to walk up and down street to prove that I had deliberately parked my car too. Was late for work.
Given birth to a child.
Spent a delightful 30 minutes on the telephone with my oldest and bestest friend in the world. At the 31 minute mark realised that this person was a complete stranger and had dialled the wrong number. Apparently we both shared voices like our respective best friends. I learned from that moment never ever to say "Hi it's me" when you call somebody.
Stopped on the way home from the gym via the pub - ate crap food drank wine and smoked cigarettes.
Spent 3 hours taking apart a small non working kitchen appliance to discover it was not plugged in.
Changed my name.
Had deep and meaningful conversations with myself - only to find out I'm a pretty crap listener and not good at advice.
Entertained thoughts that possibly I AM the worst mother in the world.
Vomited in somebody's letterbox the first ever time I experienced alcohol.
Realised my unconditional love for boy child makes up for being the worst mother in the world but not necessarily for vomiting in a strangers letterbox.
I am sure you all needed to know these things.
Be happy and well cos inevitably - "she'll be right"!
I have at least once in my life:-
Pulled in behind a car in the far lane at a set of traffic lights. Violently applied pressure to horn and let fly choice swear words when car did not move when light turned green. Realised that car was in fact parked and empty. Exited car expressing to anybody in immediate vicinity that I should really have that defective horn looked at. Had to walk up and down street to prove that I had deliberately parked my car too. Was late for work.
Given birth to a child.
Spent a delightful 30 minutes on the telephone with my oldest and bestest friend in the world. At the 31 minute mark realised that this person was a complete stranger and had dialled the wrong number. Apparently we both shared voices like our respective best friends. I learned from that moment never ever to say "Hi it's me" when you call somebody.
Stopped on the way home from the gym via the pub - ate crap food drank wine and smoked cigarettes.
Spent 3 hours taking apart a small non working kitchen appliance to discover it was not plugged in.
Changed my name.
Had deep and meaningful conversations with myself - only to find out I'm a pretty crap listener and not good at advice.
Entertained thoughts that possibly I AM the worst mother in the world.
Vomited in somebody's letterbox the first ever time I experienced alcohol.
Realised my unconditional love for boy child makes up for being the worst mother in the world but not necessarily for vomiting in a strangers letterbox.
I am sure you all needed to know these things.
Be happy and well cos inevitably - "she'll be right"!
Sunday, July 6, 2008
The Blog with the Tax Department
It's tax time here. That wonderful time of year you get to declare to the Tax Department everything about yourself. What salary you earned during the year, the tax that was deducted, what colour underwear you wore on the close of the tax year, how many times a week you have sex.
The last two most likely don't fall under the Tax Act but you get the idea.
Now recently the Tax Department and I have had our issues. I just don't feel that the relationship is working for me. It's not a lack of commitment on behalf of either party. In fact I would go so far as to say TD is a tad OVER committed to me and my goings on. Does TD not realise that a girl needs her space???? Unfortunately if I were to break it off with TD my only other prospect for a relationship could be the Tax Evasion Police and a shared cell with a butch lesbian called Bertha.
So having no choice in the matter (no offence of course to butch lesbians named Bertha - just not my kind of thing) I sit and ponder this year's tax return. Namely Question 10 Label L - Did you receive any interest income during the financial year? Now its a fairly straight forward question - yet it's the question that has caused me untold grief and sleepless nights.
In the past the tiny little bit of interest that I earn on my tiny little bit of savings I have in the bank has seemed so pitiful that no-body - least of all TD - would be the slightest bit interested. Apparently I was wrong. TD is VERY interested in the tiny little bit of interest I earned. And what REALLY annoys me is that someone who I considered a good FRIEND - my bank ("B") - has been telling TD little tales (in the form of a data matching system - fucking computers). My issue is that apparently this is a very one sided relationship. TD could listen to me for hours waffle on about the tiny bit of interest that B gives me - yet does not give a fat rat's arse about the thousands of dollars of interest I PAY to B for the privilege of B owning most, if not all, of my house. That my friends - is my quibble.
So having made amends to TD for the past two years of me answering NO to Question 10 Label L (and yes I KNOW it was lying and I KNOW I deserve what I get but it still pisses me off) my mouse now hovers over the question. I know what I must do and I know I will do it.
Eventually.
Probably.
Maybe.
The last two most likely don't fall under the Tax Act but you get the idea.
Now recently the Tax Department and I have had our issues. I just don't feel that the relationship is working for me. It's not a lack of commitment on behalf of either party. In fact I would go so far as to say TD is a tad OVER committed to me and my goings on. Does TD not realise that a girl needs her space???? Unfortunately if I were to break it off with TD my only other prospect for a relationship could be the Tax Evasion Police and a shared cell with a butch lesbian called Bertha.
So having no choice in the matter (no offence of course to butch lesbians named Bertha - just not my kind of thing) I sit and ponder this year's tax return. Namely Question 10 Label L - Did you receive any interest income during the financial year? Now its a fairly straight forward question - yet it's the question that has caused me untold grief and sleepless nights.
In the past the tiny little bit of interest that I earn on my tiny little bit of savings I have in the bank has seemed so pitiful that no-body - least of all TD - would be the slightest bit interested. Apparently I was wrong. TD is VERY interested in the tiny little bit of interest I earned. And what REALLY annoys me is that someone who I considered a good FRIEND - my bank ("B") - has been telling TD little tales (in the form of a data matching system - fucking computers). My issue is that apparently this is a very one sided relationship. TD could listen to me for hours waffle on about the tiny bit of interest that B gives me - yet does not give a fat rat's arse about the thousands of dollars of interest I PAY to B for the privilege of B owning most, if not all, of my house. That my friends - is my quibble.
So having made amends to TD for the past two years of me answering NO to Question 10 Label L (and yes I KNOW it was lying and I KNOW I deserve what I get but it still pisses me off) my mouse now hovers over the question. I know what I must do and I know I will do it.
Eventually.
Probably.
Maybe.
Tuesday, July 1, 2008
The Blog with the Dead Mouse
Now generally speaking - a good mouse is a dead mouse. They smell and they have beady eyes. And when you put them with another mouse of the opposite sex they produce what looks like thousands of baked beans with legs.
But when we are talking about computer components - a dead mouse is definitely not good.
With the advent of cordless mice that require batteries, many a time I have been caught at work by a dead mouse. The problem is not the dead mouse - but rather the windows of chat and blogs and google that I have to leave open to dash to battery cupboard which is all of 30 seconds away. 30 seconds of time that a co-worker could wander into my office and find all my hard work for the day - laid bare for the world to see.
The dead mouse in question though does not reside at my work. No - it resides at my home. On the computer of boy child. ON SCHOOL HOLIDAYS!!!!!!!! For every mother reading this I need not go further - but for everybody else - this is a MAJOR CATASTROPHE.
However it seems boy child has averted putting household on DEFCON 1- thanks to his heroic measures this potential fiasco has been avoided. He took MY mouse.
Thats right people - I was MOUSELESS! He carelessly uprooted my beloved mouse from its little nest and exposed it to a world of google boobs and violent games.
I am left with an old mouse I found discarded on a shelf. It has a cord and a ball. WTF do I know what to do with a cord and a ball? So here I blog - with my hand-me-down computer and my hand-me-down mouse and I can't help but feel a little sorry for myself . Maybe I should google boobs and play violent computer games??????????
K
But when we are talking about computer components - a dead mouse is definitely not good.
With the advent of cordless mice that require batteries, many a time I have been caught at work by a dead mouse. The problem is not the dead mouse - but rather the windows of chat and blogs and google that I have to leave open to dash to battery cupboard which is all of 30 seconds away. 30 seconds of time that a co-worker could wander into my office and find all my hard work for the day - laid bare for the world to see.
The dead mouse in question though does not reside at my work. No - it resides at my home. On the computer of boy child. ON SCHOOL HOLIDAYS!!!!!!!! For every mother reading this I need not go further - but for everybody else - this is a MAJOR CATASTROPHE.
However it seems boy child has averted putting household on DEFCON 1- thanks to his heroic measures this potential fiasco has been avoided. He took MY mouse.
Thats right people - I was MOUSELESS! He carelessly uprooted my beloved mouse from its little nest and exposed it to a world of google boobs and violent games.
I am left with an old mouse I found discarded on a shelf. It has a cord and a ball. WTF do I know what to do with a cord and a ball? So here I blog - with my hand-me-down computer and my hand-me-down mouse and I can't help but feel a little sorry for myself . Maybe I should google boobs and play violent computer games??????????
K
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