Right, it’s decided, this family are becoming nudists. No I’ve made up my mind I can’t be talked out of it.
This post is brought to you from under a pile of washing so high it makes Everest look like a hill.
We’ve currently experiencing yet another season of wet weather, most of the area on the Mid North Coast is on flood alert, and I’m too scared to even look at what’s happening in Queensland given what they went through last year.
Just so you don’t worry, there’s no risk of Shambles Manor flooding. One of the advantages of purchasing on top of a rocky hill is that you are well out of contention for any flooding. Of course it also means the cost of building sky-rockets and you get to a point where you run out money and have to learn to love unfinished floors, un-landscaped gardens and the gaping hole where the pool would have been.
So due to the non-stop rain instead of celebrating Australia Day with a barbie at the beach, bribing my brother with beer to take some good-looking family shots (and up close shots of the food, sand etc – he doesn’t really get the point of those) so tonight I could write a beautifully, lyrical post about what it means to be Australian and share with my overseas readers a little of the beauty of a summer day in Oz, I will write a ranting diatribe against laundry. Glad you stopped by now?
There are clothes and towels everywhere. I’m about to break the ban on using the clothes drying. The ban came about because the winter electricity bill sent Mr Shambles reaching for his heart medication and took some pretty fancy juggling of funds from me to get paid off.
But right now I don’t care about electricity bills, or the bloody ozone layer. Look I know we are in trouble with the environment, I know it matters but I’m in a crisis of my own and don’t have the energy or time to worry about the world crisis. I know that makes me a bad person ruining the world for my children but I’ll deal with that when the sun comes out again and the washing is done.
What I care about is the fact we are running out of clothes and there are dirty ones strewn throughout bathrooms, bedrooms and in the hallway. Another of the sacrifices that had to made when money became a problem with building was we lost downstairs, all of downstairs. So the laundry got moved to a cupboard in the hallway. Unfortunately we still haven’t got the cupboard doors to hide the laundry. So clothes are spilling out of the hampers, over the floor. Hippie Child should do well in high jump at this years athletics carnival – she has to leap over the piles to get to her bedroom.
The new decorative feature of our lounge room is an assortment of clothes horses holding the damp and soggy clothes we have managed to wash – we could be here for weeks before they dry.
Seriously people if in the next few days if I get to a point where all the clothes are washed, dried, folded and put away I am going to put a ban on them ever being worn again. Note, I’ve long given up on the possibility of ironing en masse we do that on a as-needed basis when we pull the items out of the wardrobe and have a debate on how many creases you can get away with before the iron is heated up.
I can’t even pretty up this post with a photo – who wants to see someone’s dirty laundry (literally) – you’ve probably got some of your own you can go stare at – although at least you can comfort yourself with the idea that you now know someone in a bigger mess than you. See that’s my role in life – make other people feel good about themselves by sharing my excruciating reality.
Now off to give the family my new ruling that we are embracing nudity as a valid way of life. What have you got planned for the day?