And, of course, your phone charger would not be lost.

I have always wanted to live in the kind of house where, when you thought to yourself I need scissors and I need them now, you would be able to lay your hands on a pair.

In such a house, before putting the lasagne in, you would not first have to clean out the smoking crumbs from the toast you must grill because every time the toaster pops the power shorts, and no-one dares go to Harris Scarfe to replace the toaster in case that’s not the problem, because: can we really afford to get the wiring done.

The dishwasher would not have leaked so often that now the floor is warped.

If you lived in such a house, you would know how to breed children who did not cheat at connect 4 and whose creativity extended to also cleaning up the mud.

The career that you had intended to have would, at some point, have taken off. You would look at your CV and see a sensible whole, rather than a cobble of frayed strings which you can not possibly hope to explain to an employer because you can’t explain it to yourself.

0 thoughts on “And, of course, your phone charger would not be lost.”

  1. I hear you. Really.

    Being 31 is kinda similar, I think.

    I would like to live in the kind of house where I would call the landlord to do the long list of repairs, because it would be tidy enough for him to come over. Including a broken dishwasher, a back door screen off its hinges and a letterbox that literally fell apart and is now just a slot opening onto the garden. (Or is that a different me?)

  2. Sheesh, thirdcat, the way you delineate an emotional, domestic truth with such grace and economy is delightful to read. When you publish your novel I ‘m going to give it to everyone I know for Christmas, even the kids.

  3. Yes, well, \\\’this place is a fu**ing tip\\\’ seems to have lost its potency.

    Hope this Friday has been better than last (subtle understatement being employed there).

    31 was about when I had my first child, so I didn\\\’t struggle so much with it, Ariel. Although, interestingly, when I was 31, I was living in a house where the letterbox was falling over and propped up by various temporary roughshod means, and the front door handle fell off every second time the door was opened. That did give me the shits. There were also mice.

  4. Hey have you seen “Love my way”? Ducky leant it to me – you must go out and get it immediately and watch it when you have the house to yourself in the daytime and should be doing something else.

    This Friday was heaps better than last Friday as Jethro’s cast came off. Unfortunately this was in preparation for the bigger nastier operation next Friday and three months of a new cast. But we have his delicious little body to bathe and cuddle for a week, and are going to enjoy it.

  5. Exactly. Hey, I reckon my place would beat yours in the tip stakes. And I just had a neat freak friend unexpectedly drop by. Embarassing.

  6. No, I don’t THINK so, but there WAS a faint smell. The mice I’ve poisoned have died somewhere and I need to find them and dispose of them. Sigh.

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