1.) The Missing; In my house the Missing are teaspoons, socks, hair brushes and anything sewing-related. I know I own at least five tape measures. I know Charlotte has around twenty pairs of socks. We own four hair brushes. Twenty teaspoons. And yet right now, at this very second I might be able to locate one tape measure if I spend ten minutes looking. Chances are that I'll wind up using some dental floss and a 30cm school ruler out of the desk instead. I don't remember the last morning when there was just a clean pair of socks waiting in Charlotte's sock drawer. I know it was at least two weeks ago. And as for teaspoons...where are they? They're clearly too big to fit down the plug hole or be swallowed by the dog...so why can I only find four?
2.) Let's do the time warp again; I am sure Einstein could explain this one to me. Why is it that no matter what time I leave the house I always arrive at Charlotte's school with precisely two minutes to spare? Similarly, why is it that no matter what time we get out of bed and what time we actually leave the house for swimming lessons, we're always five minutes late?
3.) Domestic blindness; It's real and it's costing valuable time. I recently asked Charles to get me the Spray 'n Wipe. I knew it was on the bench. I told him where to find it. After two minutes of dedicated search a flustered Charles gave up and said something like, "I don't know what you've done with it but it's just not on the bench, Sweetie." It was on the bench. Right smack bang in the middle of it as it happens. It was probably one of the things he lifted up to look under three times in his search for it. I used to think domestic blindness was limited to the fridge. I was positive the inability to locate the cheese was a result of being dazzled by the fridge light. But it's an insidious affliction with far-reaching consequences. I'm not picking on Charles. All men seem to have it. Mind you, he's not the only one with domestic failure. Because I have;
4.) Domestic Alzheimers; For some reason there are these holes in my domestic brain that leak out whatever it is I need to remember. And it's always the same things that I forget. Case in point; Charlotte's swimmers. She has a swimming lesson on Thursday. Every Thursday afternoon when I pick her up from school I remind her that we have swimming later. Then we go home and I race around like a mad thing trying to locate her swimmers and wash them and dry them. I mentally chastise myself, promise myself that this week will be the week when I remember to bring them inside and wash them as soon as we come home from class. Guaranteed they will sit in the swimming bag in the boot of my car until next Thursday. Rinse, repeat. *sigh*
5.) Why I even bother; We have blonde laminated floating floor stuff in our living areas. I try to vacuum and mop them once a week. I don't know why I bother. Five minutes after the floor dries there are tumble weeds of dog fur and ugly sticky smears all over it. It is the most ridiculous choice of floor colour ever and as soon as I can afford it I'm going to yank it out and replace it. I also don't know why I bother cleaning Charlotte's room, asking Charles to take his shoes off when he comes in the door (hateful cream-coloured carpets) or tidying up the family room. These are all exercises in futility and I'm sure they will add up to several years of wasted life.
6.) Unexpected guests; Why is it that people only ever drop past when it's been at least three days since we managed to get any cleaning done? Yesterday I was right in the middle of having a meltdown over the state of the house which had reached EPA approval levels (again). Naturally, right as I'm surveying the chaos trying to decide where to start, my most OCD of all friends drops past for a quick visit. It's this sort of thing that convinces me that there is a God and he has a huge sense of humour.
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