Today, the persistent rain has leached ATM issues to the surface.
As a kid I always wanted to go out and play in the rain. It just seemed like a really fun thing to do. Stamping in puddles, playing in mud the whole schmeer. Especially if it was the weekend.
We were never allowed to. We would get ‘wet and dirty‘. ATM is clinically clean, her home is a ‘show house’ and mess is SO not allowed. So the idea of dirty children had the same affect a soaking wet, rabid, St Bernard loose in the house would.
Then why did the torturous bitch buy me Wellies and a raincoat? So I could paddle in the pool during summer? The words, “You can wear them when it’s wet”, WERE uttered during their purchase. Rain is fucking wet you mental woman!
I don’t know why this sticks in my head but it does. So, this afternoon I went and stood in the rain in the garden. I walked around in the long grass and even got muddy!… When I came in, cold, wet and filthy my problems began.
I turned in to HER… Attila The Mum!
I didn’t want the floor to get dirty (I was barefoot, doncha know!) and I certainly didn’t want the floors wet, given my shoeless status.
Hard bristle doormats get very uncomfortable, very quickly. It is at this point I start cursing her in my head… “Look what the fucking mental bitch has turned me in to!”, “It’s your fucking house, mess it up to your heart‘s content!”.
I decided to strip in the utility room.
Great plan! Straight in the wash, Sleepy you are a genius!
It was after I had put the wash on, I remembered we have no nets out there.. The bedraggled plants on the windowsill shield very little and the gaping, glazed expanse of the backdoor, even less. It also looks straight in to my neighbour’s, similarly un-netted kitchen.
I drop to my hands and knees. I am now bare arsed, muddy, wet and cold as I begin my crawl across the kitchen floor. All the while thinking,
‘She should have let me wear the fucking Wellies, IN the fucking RAIN’
Also, the Housemates were due back and I looked like I had a starring role in ‘The Ring’.
Half way down the hallway my Paper ‘fugee decided to deliver the local paper. I used to have a Paper-boy, he morphed in to a Paper-Geriatric, now I have a Paper-Refugee. Yesterday he rang the doorbell and handed me the paper. I pointed out the letterbox, which he viewed with suspicious awe, and posted my paper to myself.
The scales fell from his eyes!. It was an emotional moment.
So, today, with me naked in the hallway he attempts the letterbox for the first time. I’m telling you, time stood still. It’s not that fucking hard! Thank G-d he didn’t bend down and look in.
The new ‘smoke’ is particularly spacey! I couldn’t remember if I had sprayed deodorant WHILE I was still holding the can! I’ve usually got a teeshirt on before that happens, so that’s excellent news! It does it’s job!
9 comments:
Ah! Memories...
I remember being 5 and my mum telling me that a rainbow was trapped inside of a puddle. It was many years later that I realised a puddle’s iridescent appearance is caused by the refraction and subsequent reflection of light from a surface layer of diesel, oil and general London nastiness!!!!
Was it like finding out there was no Santa?!!
lol
Worse! It made me realise what a shit-hole London is. The home I grew up in, idealised. I always had a strange sense on pride for being born and raised in one of the world’s oldest and historically significant capital city. Not to mention trendy, hapin,' call it what you want.
Now, I dread the idea of going back there. Perceptions eh! Ever changing, never reliable.
Todays verification code: ieztrani
It may have become more 'shit holey' as time has passed!
It's what comes out of your nose after a day trip that puts me off these days. Although, I will put up with it for a visit to a good restuarant.
:oykzikw
I always worry about being in your downstairs toilet at night with the light on and generally people in the garden, although the big pile of girlie mags on the windersill does provide some protection. Still, I've never gotten nekkid in your loo. Well, not yet anyways.
There is something exciting about London. I'm not sure I'd exactly go along with the 'she who is tired of London is tired of life' but still, it has a certain draw to it. Spose it's a London thing.
xnsbw
Lots of people have worries about the downstairs loo!! You Can't be seen! The bog is a metre from the window, at least!
:qhpunkqry
Ah no, tis the wiping of the bum, you have to remember when you stand up, you need to stay near the loo.
mqjmfj - the annoying thing about word ver. is that bloody windows remembers and offers for your perusal, all the other sets of random letters beginning with, in this case, m.
Sassy.. Classic! The idea of my Mother on sherry really appeals!
Sassy... We had a similar thing going on with my Nan but it was self administered in her case. She hid a bottle of red wine behind the bread bin!
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