Last sunday was looking to be a nice peaceful day.
Better than saturday, anyway, when we recieved an official looking envelope, Saturday-couriered, for a certain somebodie's eldest child. (Who is not mine...) Followed by a phone call from ex-boss who surely must have been following the satchel via track and trace because he obviously knew it's contents... Said child is in a lot of trouble... And not just with his ex-workplace.
Anyway, second-born of mine comes in, with news. (Oh, great, she's pregnant, thinks I!) (Told you I was a shocker.) No, she and partner are moving as far away from town as humanly possible when he gets his license back. (Above big brother's mates keep coming to their home looking to buy something called Cr_ck.)
Hubby was horrified. Horrified hubby has hysteria. (He would have if he knew about the last sentence in the last paragraph you just read.) Oh well, the boy is used to travelling in to work every day so he knows what he's in for... (She doesn't.)
But even worse, somebody has written down that she only has one cat, on the lease agreement, when she really has two. Plus flat mate has a kitten. Can we please look after the munchkins?
'You have got to be kidding!' Mother kneejerk reaction. Possibly the mother of all kneejerks... I have three cats of my own and the dumb blonde one won't even go into the garage at night. Not without a fight and hubby hasn't won yet. I usually win, but I still bear the scars... He probably doesn't like the left-over foot odour smells from Junior having a key to the garage so he at least has shelter from the rain. (Has not had house-keys since he lost them middle of last year.)
Last time the munchkins were here I watched the circus as 'she' tried to get them into the garage. She, the cats' mother, of course, is soft like hubby. Not a tough aussie sheila like one's self. So, in goes one cat. catch second cat who is tempting fate by waving immature claws at blondie (who, incidentally, prefers to be carried like 'Horse') Throw second cat into garage as first cat escapes, trip over, scrape knee, drop first cat at same time. And so it goes.
By the way, did I tell you I nearly broke my toe tripping over the bony part of the blonde one's backside whilst he was hidden in my bedroom curtains?
Can you see me trying to get FIVE cats out before heading off to work? I kick them out, soft cat-lovers let them back in as they are too kind to yell 'NO!' at them, I have to find them all over again. In my house are many cat mansions. I go there now to discover where they are hiding. I don't have to worry today as hubby is off, but usually there is a scramble to get out first and thus leave the cats to the loser.
So, here I am, left to be the meanie, again, in saying 'no'. Now, where can I hide? Who's place can I take my books to. in order to get a bit of peacefull study going? Can I go to my 'mobile office', AKA Maccas. Nah, it's lunchtime, the place will be packed with noisy children, not unlike mine a few years back... So i just locked myself in my room. Hubby didn't appreciate that for some reason. Probably coz it's his too?
Anyway, above mentioned somebody's firstborn rang up as I was studying with my eyes wide shut. Or is that wired shut? 'Can you pick me up?'
'You have got to be kidding!' (cut and paste) Here was I thinking he wants me to drive him ten minutes away to Bombay. Na-ah. He was in Greenlane. Somebody, who was already at Middlemore with Granny, went up and got him. He could have at least got the train back to Middlemore, I reckon.
Then the next day this person arrived with a raw packet of sausages, and could only get into the garage with junior. His old dead microwave is still in there. He'll have to buy cooked ones next time. Junior told him he wasn't welcome around here anymore. 'Why not?' 'Something to do with stop lying and get a job...', says Junior. (The sausages didn't get cooked here, and junior forgot to tell me man-child was still here...)
Careful boy, I don't want to come home to see you have aggravated your older brother into beating you to a pulp... She who is the cats' mother has one word to say in regard to this older person and it starts with R, ends with B, is an abbreviated word, and has a vowel, an H, and another vowel in between. The word comes frequently to her lips when 'he' is mentioned.
Add up all the stresses in my life, and like someone before me, a year or so ago and I seem to remember in a blog here, I could be discussing the imminent departure of my sanity...
Don't mess with me. You'll be sorry.
Other related posts:
And you thought my life was weird...
What they don't tell you in the ads...
Princess reviews the 'holidays'
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