Turning uselessness into an artform.

Julie/Julia: what a delightful film. I'm watching it at the moment as I contemplate the few pitiful chores I have remaining to do and wondering whether I am really earning my keep as an unemployed wife (aka housewife). I mean, the flat is clean - it's much easier to keep clean than the old house - we have a full 'fridge, cake in the tin, emergency dinners in the freezer: what have I left to do to make myself useful? The only thing that needs ironing is a bunch of pillow cases that aren't going to be used for yonks and other than that it's personal projects - knitting/sewing/crochet etc which I love, but a) make a lot of mess and b) make me feel a tad guilty for devoting my time to something that benefits only me.

Of course... I say all this, but there *is* something I ought to be doing. I ought to be in town getting stamps so I can post stuff off, then I need to post it. But do I want to leave the flat in this awful cold weather? Do I heck. I think the post may have to fester in my handbag for one more day. I am a bad wife.

Now, in celebration of this blog being once more expanded I have decided to create another little list, because we all know how much I love them :-)

Reasons I am longing for Spring

1- We have no central heating and it's bitterly cold.
2- Did I mention the cold? And the lack of central heating?
3- The view is dreary (See below). I want sunshine and colour. Flowers and leaves of the most astonishing bright green. Something to look at when I go for walks. Already there are pussy willows and catkins - little silver velvet buds and delicate yellow earrings hanging from every slender branch and I am tense with excitement at the prospect of snowdrops, crocii, hyacinths, primroses, almond blossom, cherry blossom, mimosa, horse chestnut candles - oh - I'm sighing with longing just at the thought of it.
4- Hubby's probationary period at work will be up and that tiny little seed of uncertainty that insists on persisting despite my unshakeable confidence in his general wonderfulness can be thrown out and we can make a few decisions about our future in some kind of security - or as much as one can have in the current climate.
5- My birthday. Which I am determined to enjoy despite the fact it marks being another year older. It's a day to celebrate me and eat cake. That can't be bad.
6- Hubby turns 30. I am going to spoil him rotten and he will start the best decade of his life with a wonderful celebration.
7- I can dig out all my pretty-coloured spring clothing and finally stop wearing hubby's navy blue zip-up fleece which is very cosy, but unflattering to wear and probably rather in need of a wash.
8- I can leave the window open and the boys can let themselves in and out: this has two benefits. a) I don't have to act as their porter, letting them in and out ad infinitum ad nauseum b) if they can let themselves in and out then they will hopefully use the outside loo and I will not have to clean out their stinky stinky litter tray twice a day which is my *least* favourite chore.
9- Longer days. Hubby will come home in daylight and we can go for walks together and enjoy our new, carefree life.
10- Did I mention the horrible horrible cold? And the one, very expensive, plug-in electric heater? Warmer weather will not only be infinitely more pleasant, but significantly cheaper.

The view from my window yesterday morning when the sun shone, which improved the dreary winteriness considerably.


And now I'm done writing today's blog and will return to contemplating my navel. Anyone have any suggestions for something useful to do?

Oh - and guess what? The baby that hat was a gift for was born the day after I gave it to his mummy - ten days early! Welcome to the world baby Cameron.

Harking Back

OK, so if you read my post from yesterday you'll be aware that I currently have a very poorly cat at home for a bit. Because he has tubes coming out of his belly he's not allowed to roam around in a cat-like way and is currently kept for most of the day in a large crate we borrowed from his Cats Protection foster mum. This crate, for a number of reasons, mostly due to its size and weight, is sitting in the middle of our sitting/dining room. A sitting/dining room that was in *serious* of a hoover, not least because the cone-headed cat has been (to use a word my husband coined) 'cone-a-pulting' the litter from his tray across the room, with a range of about 5'.

Well, what to do? The hoover would give said cat a coronary arrest on top of his bladder issues and it's not like I'd be able to move him out of the room easily so I could do the hoovering without frightening the bejeesus out of him. Then a lightbulb popped up over my head in the manner of a cartoon strip. When we'd moved in I remembered seeing a manky old carpet sweeper in the under-the-stairs-cupboard, a remnant of the elderly lady's previous incumbency. OK, so it wasn't as effective as my funky little purple Dyson, but it was a heck of a lot quieter, didn't frighten the cat and was way easier than my only alternative: down on my hands and knees with a dustpan and brush.

Just goes to show - sometimes dated technology can still be useful. I wouldn't swap it for my Dyson on a permanent basis though!

Confessions of a Naughty Housewife

No, you filthy minded lot, not those kind of confessions and not that kind of naughty. Honestly, what's wrong with you?

No, the kind of confessions I mean are the sort where you spend all day at home alone, supposedly taking tender loving care of home, hearth and husband - a very Nazi kind of ideal, you know - Kinder, Kuche, Kirche. Anyway, instead of industriously scrubbing away at the kitchen floor, or whatever other fanciful notion he has of how you spend your time, you actually went to the library, found a copy of your favourite trashy author's new book and whiled away the afternoon on the sofa with the book, a duvet, both the warm and snuggly cats and, um, well, six packets of Maltesers (albeit mini ones). Dear God, I hope my husband doesn't read this.

Well days like this are fairly rare, not more than once a week, I swear ;-) But the last thing you can do is let hubby come home and find you on the sofa, the place a tip and no dinner ready for his hungry working-all-day belly. So just about the time he's due back you jump to your feet and think "well, I'd better at least get supper going." You rush into the kitchen, hasten some potatoes into the oven or whatever and then realise the state of things.

OK, if you just empty the cold greasy water out of the sink and refill it with all the dirty things and hot soapy water then the counter won;t be fillwed with stuff and it'll look like you've done something. Since you're doing that you may as well put all the clean things away - the clear space will make it look really under way and efficient. Hrm, now you've put the clean stuff away you may as well actually wash up the stuff in the sink -- there! That's better. No wipe the counter down and put the ketchup away. Cool, the kitchen looks well kept now. Luckily you made the bed when you got dressed, but the sitting room is a dump - sewing stuff everywhere, the sofa throw dishevelled thanks to you and the cats and cushions everywhere. Two minutes work and the room looks very different. Amazing how a heap of sewing stuff looks so much better than a scattered mess...

So there you have it -- my secret to domesticity. Run around and do all the obvious, visible stuff in the half hour before he gets home, then it'll look like you were slaving all day -- but don;t let him catch you doing anything big! Fine if you're stirring a big pot of food, or maybe hanging out the washing or doing a little light ironing, but do not get caught up to your armpits in three days' worth of washing up or he'll know that you've just left it all to the last minute and won't be impressed at all.

On the other hand you do want him to know you're constantly striving for an orderly house, so try and find some small thing he can catch you in the middle of!

And do remember - since you're in the position of being a kept woman there's nothing wrong with having a lazy day to relax, as long as he's not having to take up the slack when he gets home then why not? He'd almost definitely do the same thing if he was in the lucky position to be able to stay at home all day without the pressure of work.