I do a lot of things and by the same token I don’t do a lot of things. Once up on a time of madness and a tiny bit of but-maybe-I-should-itis, it may have bothered me. Not anymore. Oh ho no. Life is too short. There are fun things to do and places to go and all of that jazz and frankly not enough hours in the day.
That is my half arsed argument and I am sticking to it.
These are the things I don’t let life, magazines or other people tell me I should have or spend time doing.
I’m slovenly like that. Some people think doors were invented for privacy. Wrong! Doors were invented to shut out and hide the mess within. Why make a bed when you are just going to crawl back into it in 14 hour’s time? Also, throw this at those who go “yuk. You lazy bint!” Tell them dust mites thrive and multiply in warm conditions. Making your bed when you get up means you are literally making all of those little dust mites that eat your dead skin, warm and cozy. They get all excited in a let’s make more dust mites kind of way. And well, you made your bed. Now go and lie on the baby dust mites. And their mammies and daddies.
Once upon a time a mother (me) took a notion to iron something. She decided to press non-existent creases out of a school uniform. She felt she’d better make an effort, this being her firstborn and all. It took her a while to locate the iron because it was rarely used. Next conundrum was what to iron the uniform on. She didn’t own an ironing board either. That first world problem was solved by putting a few towels on the kitchen table and she was good to go. Her school goer and his little brother wandered into the kitchen. Pulled up short by the unfamiliar sight of their mother (me) standing behind a table draped with towels and pushing a triangular object back and forth, they asked her what that thing (the iron) was? Apparently nana has one. Who knew?
Cook from scratch
I should. I know I should. But I also reckon there should be an extra five hours in a day. And speaking honestly, I would not be using those on cooking and cleaning. Cooking from scratch also requires a certain set of skills, ones I do not have. I reassure myself that at least I grate my own cheese, crush my own garlic and never, ever buy vegetables in jars of brine. Not cooking from scratch is one of my guilty “I really should try harder’s” but I do my best. Pancakes anyone?
The following are the things I don’t have. Through no fault of my own, someone else’s fault or just out of plain disinterest.
A steam genie or Slow Cooker
Amongst other things but I have heard all sorts of adulation heaped upon steam genies and what they can do. It’s only marvellous altogether by all accounts and seemingly I am missing out on this phenomenon. Also I believe slow cookers are the bee’s knees. It’s practically like having a cook in the house. You pop the ingredients in there, head off to work and when you come home, hey presto, a perfectly cooked meal ready and waiting for you. Oh! Oh, I see. I see!
A Bank Balance
Funny thing happened. I got kids. Some people have an expensive shopping habit or a jet setting lifestyle that needs funding. I got kids. Four of ‘em. Funny thing about kids. They need to be dressed. And shod. And fed. And educated. And brought places. And bought stuff. And taken swimming. And on cinema trips. And to parties. And other stuff. Hey, who needs new shoes every once in a while and the odd set of undergarments that actually match? Not me. I got kids, see.
Size 10 clothes
Technically speaking I do own some but they don’t fit. I still hang onto them though as a reminder of my former whippet thin self. I try not to mind too much when one of the boys sees that white dress and tells me he likes my t-shirt. It’s not a t-shirt! It’s a teeny tiny dress that I wore when I had a washboard for a stomach! Gah!
|kinda. not really.|
I am still desperately trying to hang onto my sanity and what’s left of my sense of humour but I suspect they might leave soon as well. Just like everything else.