Disasters in all directions.
Two clocks ran the batteries down this morning so I'm not early I'm late.
Get to the front gate and realize I can't go on. Mumzilla is waiting for me.
Realize I can go on by going to the pub where I'll meet sister who's on holidays and probably picking up winnings from Saturday.
Ring Taxi instead of walking.
Find sister at the first pokie machine on the right.
"Pull up a chair" says she. "I've only got Ma's phone money" say I.
"It's a hard road" says she, "use it and call it travelling money."
It was well travelled by the time I'd lost the lot and wandered down to the madhouse.
I should have used it to travel to Darwin.
She is surprised it's November. "Have I missed September?"
She was sick yesterday because she had sausages for tea at 1 o'clock. Don't even try to work that out, it's futile.
"There's washing in the sewing room." Stupid me thought it was washed washing because washed washing is usually in the sewing room for me to fold up. This time it's washing to be washed and yelling is heard along with swearing and banging of washing basket.
BrickOutHouse has the dryer full and the washing machine full from the weekend. I put the dryer on for another half hour, drag his wet washing across the road to sister's dryer and load up Ma's clothes.
So I'm standing there folding up his clothes on the washing machine waiting for it to finish and I notice the sink is filling up with water, to the top with water.
Fetch the plunger from under another pile of his dirty clothes and attack the sink.
It appears that no-one has bothered to empty the lint bag in the washing machine for quite some time so the overflow of sock debris is down the pipe, miles down the pipe.
BrickOutHouse arrives home and says my yelling is hurting his migraine. I stop yelling to think about using the plunger to see if he has enough brain to have a migraine.
Thursday I will pay the phone bill because I have ethics, bugger it.
More trouble, I have only enough gin for tonight and the gin money will have to go on the phone bill, bugger it.
13 comments:
re
"using the plunger to see if he has enough brain to have a migraine" ... is there a particular orifice at which the plunger should be applied ?
Coppertop, help is at hand (if you can wrestle it from Meself and Brownie.)
Annie, it's a toss-up as to where his brain may be hiding at any given moment.
Your Lordship is a posting too early. Your type of post is up next.
I was generous, there's one for you and one for Hughes.
Hot Andrew is left out, I couldn't find a jewelled codpiece for love or money.
Swine! And it's untouched by human hands as I presume that's a Yeti that has its paws wrapped around my precious.
It's actually Cuz's 60th present we've had in the pantry for ages.
(if we don't cross paths soon, she's gonna end up with the rice flour.)
You'd need to turn him upside down for that plunger to work, J ;)
Sounds like you had a rough day- ((hugs)).
Jayne, I was thinking of shoving his head down the pipe to show him the lint belonged to his furry socks. I can only thank the Goddess that I'm not married and don't have to deal with that moron as well.
Thank you, OoC, I hope you have a busy social Christmas season coming up. You can have my social season, I won't be using it.
"
So I'm standing there folding up his clothes on the washing machine waiting for it to finish and I notice the sink is filling up with water, to the top with water.
Fetch the plunger from under another pile of his dirty clothes and attack the sink.
It appears that no-one has bothered to empty the lint bag in the washing machine for quite some time so the overflow of sock debris is down the pipe, miles down the pipe."
Well there you go.
Your first lesson in felting.
Now all I want for Christmas is me two front Coppertop Akubras.
...and, no jokes, the word verification was "unreiyal"
Have you heard of a "Gin's Purse" ?tee hee...if really broke there is usally a cheapo cask of plonk 9gin's purse or hand bag) to be found...its all plonk...gin, scotch , rum ...
ahhh hope you got something.
No Your Lordship, my first lesson was de-felting the dryer after one of his sock marathons. Why so many socks? The lad doesn't like to throw any out so if one has a hole in the toe, he matches it to one with a hole in the heel and wears both.
Don't worry Therese, there's always the terribly really expensive bottle of port I save for ghastly occasions.
Like a chap who is a lateral - or in this case, a footeral thinker.
Post a Comment