comfortablymum6

Have watched a couple of episodes of Sherlock in no particular order so decided to watch the whole lot from the beginning. Was really enjoying them and starting to find Sherlock strangely (and slightly concerningly) attractive. Himself came in and sat down for about 10 minutes to watch. After listening for a while and hearing the following from Sherlock “Sorry I must have missed that as someone other than me was talking and I tend to tune that out. I’ve got Mrs Hudson on permanent mute”. He said “Sensible chap”, got up and walked out.

Ah. Explains a few things.

Multitasking fail.

I was so engrossed in reading Olivia Colman’s Oscar acceptance speech on my phone whilst preparing to brush my teeth, that I made the schoolgirl error of switching the loaded toothbrush on as I was about to put it in my mouth. I have searched the bathroom and myself high and low for the ejected glob of toothpaste with no success.

I know, with a feeling of depressing inevitability, that at some point during my work day, it will make itself known, dangling somewhere from my person reminiscent of the scene from “There’s something about Mary”.

It is evident that I have reverted to needing my gardening gloves looped through my sleeves on a bit of elastic. This weekend I spent twenty minutes hunting for my left one in the henhouse, in the veggie patch, in the shed, in the kitchen and in the (merrily blazing) bonfire. *sigh*

Any one of the three other fully functioning adults in this house with eyes, arms, legs and normal cognitive ability who disapproves of being told what to do ” I can’t find any of my pants/socks/clothes!! What have you done with them all?”

Menopausal washing fairy in early hot flush state who has recently decided to restrict her magic powers to simply putting stuff in and taking stuff out of washing machine as an experiment. “Where have you looked?”

“In my pants/socks/clothes drawer”

“Have you tried the :

Dirty washing pile that hadn’t made it downstairs yet.
The dirty washing in the basket.
The washing in the machine.
The wet washing in the washing basket.
The tumble dryer.
The drying racks in the boiler room
The unfolded dry washing in the laundry room
The folded clean washing on the boiler
The folded clean washing on the Aga?”

“Er…”

“Found it!”

Magic

Slightly disturbed by the windscreen wash I purchased yesterday. The only available one in Tesco was an inexplicable shade of yellow. Whenever I deploy the washers it looks like someone is peeing on my windscreen. Not appealing.

Just spent about 15 minutes retracing my steps around the house and checking all my coat, apron and dressing gown pockets for my phone. Finally resorted to the find my iPhone “I’m HERE you daft old bugger!” bleat so can at least locate which room it it in. Follow noise to the bedroom but it is still not visible despite me going In ever decreasing circles around the room

Because I have made it into the bed.

Senior and junior daughters, during a long and complicated discussion about marriage and divorce. “we have decided that if you ever get divorced, neither of you are allowed to date for at least a year. Mummy isn’t allowed to end up with someone of 60 and Daddy isn’t to go and get someone of 19. He can have someone like the Queen. She’s about his age.”

I have just discovered the answer to that age old and much debated question of physics : “where is the best location on a slightly sloping toilet cistern to place a very full jumbo cup of freshly made tea in order to allow it, when it slides off the cistern, to bounce off the flush handle and perform an elegant and perfectly executed 360 degree somersault to ensure maximum splash coverage of the white walls, floor tiles, loo roll, towels on the towel rail and dishevelled, slightly stunned, half asleep prospective drinker”. Humph.

Just at work doing a report and searching for the word to describe a (not uncommon) condition that has elusively slipped my memory.

After a brief and anxious hiatus it launches itself forward into my consciousness.

Oh yes.

THAT word.

“Alzheimer’s”

😶

Mars and Venus. Got to love ‘em.

Cooking:

Her –

(On work days and at weekend) Plan a meal, source ingredients or use what is in the fridge, produce a tasty repast at a convenient time for the majority in the house.

Him –

Option 1 “What’s for tea?”

Option 2 (on being informed it’s his turn to cook) “I’m not hungry, I’ll just have a bowl of cereal, you sort yourself out”

1/2 an hour later “Ooh, that looks tasty, have you done enough for me?”

Cleaning:

Her –

Sees a mess, clears it up and cleans room prompting “”Where have you put all my F*#@$€ stuff?!”

Him –

“This house is a shit hole. That floor needs a mop”

Gardening:

Her –

Gets the hedge clippers, wheelbarrow and rake. Cuts a section of hedge, picks it up, disposes of it, rakes grass clear. Repeat until a suitable amount of hedge has been clipped for that day.

Him –

Usually after “Her” has cut and tidied the lawn.

Fire up hedge clippers. Look for anything and everything that might require cutting back. Spend a day wielding the machine around the garden and even going next door to see if they want anything cut.

Collapse in armchair, demand a beer and announce that he is knackered and it’s her job to clear it all up tomorrow.

Designated driving.

Her –

“Who’s turn is it to drive?

Him –

Option 1 “Well, it’s my friends so I really should drink because I’m hosting them/need to be on the same plane as them”

Option 2 “Well, it’s your friends so I really should drink to make it tolerable”

🙄