I'm so easy to please. Simple pleasures.
And extra special when someone else makes you the tea and someone else runs you the bath.
........ Aren't they?
Ooh I'm in two minds..... I like my tea Just So. Coffee is good, (very good), but I can pretty much take it as it comes. As long as it's black. And I'll eat pretty much anything as long as I didn't cook it.... except meat.... and stew. I'm easy to please.
But tea, although I seemingly, unflinchingly, take it as it comes, is a much more delicate operation. This is because I like it delicate. I say 'black tea please' but I really mean very light barely brown tea please. I should say that shouldn't I? (That's my problem - saying exactly what I mean.) But I invariably gush 'oh that's lovely thank you' when I'm presented with something that would strip paint from the vapour alone. I then persist in drinking it, cos I don't want to be a bother, but using my sensory shut-down skills - by-passing the tastebuds and getting it straight down my throat without allowing any stewed aroma to hit the nasals. Then breathe. It's a strange talent to list but I'm very short of talents so......
And as for the bath - it has to be too hot, too bubbly and too full or it's such a massive disappointment I want to cry but obviously I don't complain. Not audibly. Barely audible. (No I just take a few steps back on my self-worth-o-meter because you should be grateful and if you're not then you're evidently a failure as a human being and anyway you've probably been solely responsible for the arctic meltdown by this meagre temperature alone you smacked-arse-faced princess.) And if I haven't personally scrubbed the bath out beforehand myself then ohhhhhhhh....... Am I really getting clean in here or is it too heavily contaminated by boy-ness? Or man-ness?? Shudder. Yeah but like you know I mean..... how many times is my bath the leftovers of Mr Roving Blade's post-golf soak? But I'll jump in just the same. Happy to get one at all. I'll just add a bit of hot. Won't wash my face in it. And have a very quick shower afterwards. (There goes another baby seal you heinous witch.) Oh and it has to be uninterrupted............. !!!!!!
High maintenance? Me? Nahhh - I'm so easy to please me I am I'll take it all as it comes. (And so you bloody well should.) How can that be high maintenance for anybody? I ask you!! (Such a diva.)
Now my little heart's just skipped a beat as Minx came in here with a cup of tea for me. I'm the luckiest mummy on the planet I am. I said thank you all coo-ily and refused to mind the Little Voice that noted it was in the stripey cup and not the spotty one and questioned whether she'd used just the one tea bag for both of us and was mine the first dip as the second seems to spurt brownness quicker and had the kettle freshly boiled....? I just smiled. I am so proud of myself.
And it was lovely. Maybe a little stronger than perfect but it was a bloody good stab. I'm getting better at this life-is-what-it-is-and-be-happy lark I think. Yes I is.
And now.... it's Saturday afternoon. I don't have to take anyone anywhere - (for a major bleedin' change). I've been in the kitchen all day so far clearing up yesterday, dealing with today, 'helping' Dog Boy make fairy cakes cos none of them got more than one at our Sports Day last Thursday apparently (the concept of sharing still not quite grasped in this house) which effectively means MAKING fairy cakes (out of guilt most likely and brewing up more guilt for using too many ingredients again) and clearing that up too and then immediately being asked what's for lunch.... And despite it being in the afternoon and I should be finishing the folding...... I have already cleaned out the bath and heated the water and have bloody well fed everyone so I have.
So..... I'll make myself another tea, perfectly, despite my imminent pelvic floor collapse. And then I am going to indulge myself in some perfectly-produced too hot too deep too foamy luxury in a perfect sparkling tub. Fully aware that I will be yelling 'yes but don't eat them all!!' and 'in the cupboard by the larder in the tin! Under the battery tin! On the HIGHER shelf!' and 'why can't you ever take turns nicely!!!' and 'just give me five fucking minutes for christ's sake!!!!!!' every 45 seconds but hey..... Focusing on the perfect right now I am. I AM........ And then I know I'll have to spend another 25 minutes lying on the bed in the wet towel thinking cool thoughts to calm my pounding over-heated internal organs..... And then I'll need another cup of tea to summon up the energy to re-tackle the folding. And then they'll want dinner. And then I'll start feeling guilty. And then I'll get cross. And then I'll shout at someone that the folding's in the way. And then I'll cry. But it'll all be worth it - won't it?
Take 'em while you can. When you can. However you can.
Don't listen to The Voice....
.....(do you mean the one that is now telling you that you have spent so much time on the 'pooter that you cannot possibly justify the running of the aforementioned bath?).....
Yes that one.