I was lying in bed last night trying to get to sleep whilst a million and one ideas for blogs buzzed around my head. One recurring thought was 'Why bother spending a good hour or so every day constructing a few paragraphs on nothing in particular that no-one is going to read?'
Well, I could say something about how I always wanted to be a writer and that the best way to be a writer is to write.
Perhaps it is a subconscious effort to keep the grey matter from turning to mush (it happens, apparently, once you have kids! All intellectual thought is replaced by the IgglePiggle song.)
Actually what it boils down too is that there is absolutely nothing of any value on daytime TV to watch and I've got to fill the little man's nap time with something or I will just eat biscuits and that is not good.
Obviously if anyone else does read this and gets some degree of enjoyment from it then that IS good and proves that this is not a complete waste of time.
Tuesday, May 19, 2009
Thursday, May 14, 2009
A woman's work is never done...
When I were a lass the decorating was always done by the man of the house. My Grandad spent most of his retirement repainting the kitchen and Mum always had a grand redecorating plan for my poor Dad whenever he was lucky enough to get a few days off work.
Unfortunately in these post-feminist days of equal opportunities that traditional way of doing things has fallen by the wayside.
Or at least it has in my house.
Don't get me wrong - I don't begrudge this. I actually enjoy slapping a bit of paint on the walls and transforming a room. I get bored looking at the same colour on the walls for too long and I lived on my own long for so long that I had to do these things myself. The problem is now I have so much else to do, and, unlike my partner who, admittedly, goes out to work six days a week but has Sunday 'off' complete with lie-in, I am up at 6am and still 'working' at 9pm pretty much every day of the week (anyone with young kids will know what I mean). I know I could poke and prod and get my dearly beloved to have a go but, honestly, he is to DIY what Jeremy Clarkson is to environmentalism. If I want these things done I have to do them myself or they will simply never get done.
A case in point is our hallway. Actually 'hallway' is a generous term - 'lobby' would be more accurate, 'A bit of space connecting the front door to the living room and kitchen' is about as close as I can get. When we moved into the house about four and a half years ago it was decorated in dark. DARK grey and silver wallpaper in a kind of Art Deco fan pattern - actually quite nice in the right place but sadly this was not the right place. So this came down and the scrappy bit of carpet on the floor came up revealing ...mmm nice pockmarked concrete. I bought some flooring (just cheap, sticky backed 'wood effect' planks) and somehow managed to find a million other better things to do...
Four years down the line and with a very mobile one year old on the loose, I have decided that enough is enough and the flooring is going down - I hate it now but that is beside the point - it is better than bare concrete and we can't afford to get anything else. Of course that means I will have to repaint the walls and skirting and keep my little darling entertained at the same time, not to mention all the other jobs that have to be done to keep things ticking over so please excuse me if I seem a little crotchety over the next few days...
Unfortunately in these post-feminist days of equal opportunities that traditional way of doing things has fallen by the wayside.
Or at least it has in my house.
Don't get me wrong - I don't begrudge this. I actually enjoy slapping a bit of paint on the walls and transforming a room. I get bored looking at the same colour on the walls for too long and I lived on my own long for so long that I had to do these things myself. The problem is now I have so much else to do, and, unlike my partner who, admittedly, goes out to work six days a week but has Sunday 'off' complete with lie-in, I am up at 6am and still 'working' at 9pm pretty much every day of the week (anyone with young kids will know what I mean). I know I could poke and prod and get my dearly beloved to have a go but, honestly, he is to DIY what Jeremy Clarkson is to environmentalism. If I want these things done I have to do them myself or they will simply never get done.
A case in point is our hallway. Actually 'hallway' is a generous term - 'lobby' would be more accurate, 'A bit of space connecting the front door to the living room and kitchen' is about as close as I can get. When we moved into the house about four and a half years ago it was decorated in dark. DARK grey and silver wallpaper in a kind of Art Deco fan pattern - actually quite nice in the right place but sadly this was not the right place. So this came down and the scrappy bit of carpet on the floor came up revealing ...mmm nice pockmarked concrete. I bought some flooring (just cheap, sticky backed 'wood effect' planks) and somehow managed to find a million other better things to do...
Four years down the line and with a very mobile one year old on the loose, I have decided that enough is enough and the flooring is going down - I hate it now but that is beside the point - it is better than bare concrete and we can't afford to get anything else. Of course that means I will have to repaint the walls and skirting and keep my little darling entertained at the same time, not to mention all the other jobs that have to be done to keep things ticking over so please excuse me if I seem a little crotchety over the next few days...
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