Door Handle (Photo credit: Sean MacEntee)
The reason I started this blog in the first place was because today was so crappy. It’s the Queens Jubilee bank holiday. That’s not why it’s crappy. That just means I didn’t have to go to work, so this was actually a good start! I had a lie-in and got up about 10:30am.
The manchild said he was going out for a bit and could he have a fiver for bus fare. He may legally be an adult but you never stop borrowing cash off your parents. I’m almost 40 and I still do! So I gave him my last fiver and off he went, with a thrown-in-the-air promise to be back in half hour to help me clean the bombsite that our home has become in the last few days. Did he reappear? Did he heck! I wasn’t daft enough to expect him back in the half hour but I didn’t think I wouldn’t see him til 5pm! I wouldn’t have got as annoyed as I did if he hadn’t told me he was coming back to help. It just really bugs me when people don’t do what they say they’re gonna do. I don’t care who you are, if you tell me you’re gonna do something then bloody well do it. If you can’t do it then let me know so I don’t fester all day!
So I was stuck indoors doing the housework while the heavens opened and rained down on us all day long and the manchild was conspicuous by his absence. On top of that, I’m all hormonal. Women’s Monthly (and I don’t mean the magazine) appeared to make my day worse. Bring on the menopause I say! (I only say it once a month. I don’t really long for hot flushes.. or as I call them, power surges).
Anyway, so after the manchild came home and we argued (a rare thing these days), my hormones got the better of me and I went in my room to hide the fact that I was crying and apparently unable to stop. I know it was hormones and not the argument itself cos I don’t cry over much, certainly not a tiff with the manchild. Even when the rest of my face had stopped making those faces you hate to catch sight of in the mirror…you know, the ‘don’t I look ugly when I’m crying’ face…., the tearducts apparently thought they were getting time and a half for working on a bank holiday. Tears still rolled slowly down my cheeks and my nose got all bunged up to that point where, when you sniff, it smells and sounds like the sea. Nice!
I could hear the manchild moving around and when I heard the front door go I got up and went to see what he was up to. Turns out he was taking the cardboard recycling down that I’d asked him to do for the last 2 months or so. And he’d cleared most of his crap out of the hallway. He’s not such a bad kid underneath it all and it isn’t his fault I’m hormonal and molehills appear mountainous in my head. He went out after that. I’ve no idea where. Probably to some mate to bitch about what a bitchymoanyoldbag of a mother he’s got. Don’t blame him really. I’d do the same at his age… Except I was lucky enough to have MOVED OUT by his age!!! I WISH local rents weren’t so ridiculously high that he can never ever ever move out. Ever. Sob.
I love him to bits but he’s so heavy handed with everything that he’s slowly destroying my home. He seriously doesn’t know his own strength. He lost his footing and pulled the lounge curtains off the wall a couple of weeks ago. Not only the curtains but the curtain pole AND the wooden plinth thingy that the pole was attached to. I’m not saying I didn’t laugh ‘cos it was really funny BUT I’m gonna need a new drill for my birthday so I can fix my damn home! I just bought a new toilet seat after the last one somehow got broke and I recently repaired the bathroom door handle, which, after a few months of the manchild not using it properly (seriously? It’s a door handle!), had a tendency to escape the confines of the door and jump into your hand. Not what you need when you’re about to burst a bladder!
As much as I love my son I so want him to have his independence. He needs it. I need it. Our home needs it. I too was a messy sod at 18. I remember it well. It was much more my default setting than it is his. In fact, it’s only recently that I’m not so much of a messy sod anymore. I wasn’t a good role model when it comes to housework. I went along the lines of, if you can shut the door on it, it doesn’t exist. Who’s bright idea was it to move into an open plan lounge/kitchen/diner? Oh yeah.. mine. Dammit.
Oh well, don’t mind me. I feel better now I’ve ranted a bit. I’m just gonna finish off my day by eating comfort food. Thank God for chocolate!
Kalamity K x
UrbanBurbles 