Thursday, 18 February 2010

Bottom Bunk Bedends to the Brown Stuff

I have now been clearing, cleaning, rearranging, dismantling, remantling, grappling and groaning under the weight of toys, books, bricks, shelves, bedding, beds, boxes, baskets, dead flies and mouse poo for about 2 weeks. And I'm bored. I'm still living in filth - albeit moved about a bit - and I've got back-ache, head-ache and bottom-ache.

Everyone has moved bedrooms - which always seems like a good idea. It has been a major operation. And still not complete. Dismantling the Big Bed tomorrow (no Mummy not the Big Bed Yes darling the Big Bed) - which I'm convinced will disintegrate on contact with my little friend Allen (key) and never stand up again but it has to be attempted. Living in a wonkey fun-fair joke house built for asymetrical midgets with Alice in Wonderland door frames and sudden slopes at head level and/or feet level is a challenge for any furniture mover-abouter. PG Tips chimps would have had a ball. And this comes from someone who pretty much IS a midget. I feel I am becoming more asymetrical and chimp-like with every grunt and stumble. But hey - by the end of the week-end (yes yes yes) we shall all be in the right place. In my case - a mental institution.

That'll be here then.

But this is the first night that my little Rock Godling has stayed put in his (HIS) bed despite still being awake when I got out. This really is a bunting event. We were kind of doing OK up til a couple of weeks ago and then we went to see Horrible Science on stage and it terrified him from the off. As soon as it gets dark now he is limpeted onto my leg, tormented by the thoughts of giant talking bacteria. Spongebob amputations and Ben 10 alien mutations and general cartoon and computer game savagery etc is fine. Some lovey dressed up in a purple velour blob-suit - WAAAAAAAAGGGHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Wasn't sure that contructing the bunk beds was going to be a good move during this crisis but they seem quite popular. Apart from the inability to sit up on the top bunk due to midget house - it's not pretty seeing me clamber, drag and slither on either. And there's not much wallpaper left as it rips off wonderfully well while Mummy's pretending to be asleep - 'and this bit looks like a crocodile...' But I did hoover up all the Hogwartsy spiders (dead and alive) before I started which was an education in itself. More fun-fair cobweb special effects down the stairs however. Sod that tho'. Minx and I building the damn bunks together was achievement enough. Still basking actually. Not going to spoil that with cobweb ski-jumping even if it would be blog-heaven. Sod you.

I often find that after a day of high achievement, I inevitably follow this with a day of total crapness. So progress is slow. I'm also like this regarding eating healthily. I celebrate a day of being 'good' with being remedial - like if noone sees me devouring brown stuff then it doesn't count. And then my bottom reminds me. I used to consider having allergies was just an affectation - look at me I'm special - pander to me etc - and so my punishment for this intolerance is now Intolerance. First it was the tiny delicious sesame seed. Little pellets of pure evil. And now I seem to have suddenly become Lactose Intolerant. How fucking boring. It's mostly fine as I prefer goats' milk and cheese anyway and hardcore dark chocolate but it's all the irritating questions I now have to ask people in cafes and friends' houses. And it's the innocuous munching of the kids' stuff when we're on the move. I've obviously used up all my chocolate tokens. I've only got a couple of alcohol tokens left as it is - just enough for a small sherry at Xmas. So what's next? I can't do drugs - too paranoid. I can't drink anymore - too much too young. Don't smoke - was always crap at that so stopped pretending years ago. Sex? Well...... I have very effective contraceptive kids so that's more of a thing to look forward to when we 'retire' - along with Scrabble and hedgehog rescuing. So that leaves chocolate doesn't it? Bugger.

I suppose I've still got coffee. And swearing. (I even called a rogue escapee cushion a cunt this evening thinking that Python Boy was asleep - oops. I usually keep that one for Daddy). And flicking bogeys at the wall. But they're a bit lame for vices aren't they? I need some suggestions for badness. I'm too old for mooning (but in my day .........), and too young for prescription-amnesia. I NEED HELP. I know you won't let me down.......

3 comments:

  1. No drink or chocolate? What a bugger. Now you've got me thinking. What other sources of pleasure are there? I favour having poisonous thoughts, especially when watching property shows ('Why don't they all just die? DIE!!') or the Baftas, as I am doing now ('Stop weeping and grow a fucking backbone, you luvvy twats!").
    Why don't you drive down Monson Road with the windows wound down, playing really loud grime music? That'll ruffle a few Royal Tunbridge Wells feathers. Swear out of the window, too - 'Look at the cunting cushions in that shop!' Oh go on....

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  2. You should have heard what I called the bed today as I was stabbing it with the screwdriver - it was along the lines of "I fucking hate you fucking cunting fucking stupid fucking cunt wank of a cunt's shit you fucking shit cunt....' etc. I'm not very creative with my swearing. My mum's very lovely friend was once known to have said she got very cross about something and swore for a full two minutes and didn't repeat herself once. Now that's impressive. Something to which to aspire. Very Radio 4 in a twisted kind of way. No points deducted for hesitation or repetition.

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  3. I admire a great, creative swearer. Like Malcolm Tucker from The Thick of It. Sadly, no one is writing a witty, sweary script for me, so I tend to resort to random 'Motherfuckers' and 'Arse wank's. (I know, I know, it doesn't really mean anything. But it is most satisfying to say.)
    That bed was asking for it, though.

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