Put another log on the fire.

So blogging has been put well and truly on the back burner round here of late.  Conscience dictates that I put my not-going-out-to-paid-employment time into more important things – like the housework, and getting going on these renovations/extensions. (Spending time on practising writing is a luxury I can’t find any justification for, sadly…)

Needless to say I still manage to spend time the ‘puter, on supposedly less time consuming exploits. Reading articles online,  and even facebooking and tweeting don’t leave quite as much of a (time-wasting) evidence trail as a meaty blog post, if you know what I mean. I know I have a bit of an addiction (but at least it’s a well-read, well-educated one!- particularly with all the election palava going on at the moment.)  I’ve also been doing P & C minutes, and stuff for the netball. It’s very easy to get waylaid with it all.

Last week got waylaid by two days in the school canteen – one of which was a whole day to fill in for a very unwell paid supervisor. I muddled through that day, thankfully with help from other volunteers who stepped up, and at the end of it wondered how the hell mums who work do it. I was bloody exhausted.

Taking Ms 11 to a school district athletics carnival put paid to another day – and my third last week of Thursday Ladies Midweek tennis accounted for another day.  (Feels decadent, but I’m adamant about being able to play my sport.)   Things were grim in the laundry department by Friday night – and the family were starting to make out that they were very hard done by. (Kind of as if the servant had absconded and not done their job for the week.)

This week things are quieter . Well, except that yesterday I had to drive Ms 17 into town to organise for her HSC art major works to be mounted, and there was the shopping to do… BUT I allocated (in my mind) today  to clean, or to paint verandah joists, as necessary.  Himself has been making practical inroads with Project Renovation, while my input has been more of a ‘holderer’ of ladders and tools and tape measures, and  a ‘passer-upperer’ of said tools. And getting on the phone to hassle plumbers for quotes, and to order decking timber, and to get quotes for this, that and the other.  None of which screams ‘accomplishment’ when you stand back and look for evidence of what you’ve done all week.

So this morning Himself expressed some concern as to my ability to set myself up to paint. (I’d like to think there was some consideration in there for a recalcitrant shoulder/upper arm too… but I’m not so sure.)  He ran around finding an old billy to decant paint into – but then expressed doubt as to my ability to decant said paint from the 4 litre can.

So I said that I could quite easily spend the whole day vacuuming. Three floors of a house well, well overdue.

He agreed that that might be a good idea.

And THEN he suggested that I wash the van as well.

Needless to say, instead of any of that,  in between hanging out washing, and doing washing up, I have been doing much teeth grinding over the pros and cons of the division of labour arrangements round here. (While I wait to drive Ms 17 to school for one of her HSC trial exams. And pick up stuff for dinner. Yes, I will cook the dinner as always, and people will  ask “What’s for dinner?” – but that’s a whole ‘nother blog post there, that is….)

Any wonder I’ve got that song playing in my head right now.

“….bake me up some bacon and some beans”

…..

“Now don’t I let you wash the car on Sunday?
Don’t I warn you when you’re gettin’ fat?… ”

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3 Comments

Filed under miscellaneous minutiae

3 responses to “Put another log on the fire.

  1. Some starch in those old blue jeans might scare them some 😉

  2. It’s really scary, but I know almost all the words to that song.

  3. Tamra G. Holcomb

    Last week got waylaid by two days in the school canteen – one of which was a whole day to fill in for a very unwell paid supervisor. I muddled through that day, thankfully with help from other volunteers who stepped up, and at the end of it wondered how the hell mums who work do it. I was bloody exhausted.

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