Categories
Life

The Magical Floordrobe

The rest of the household are home at the moment – the schools are on “half term”. You might think this would mean chaos, noise, arguments, and running battles throughout the house – and you would be wrong. I’m as surprised as you.

There must be a turning point with teenagers – where they turn from battle hardened procrastinators into somewhat reasonable family members. I say “somewhat”, because I discovered an entire rugby kit stuffed behind the upstairs bathroom door earlier.

I’m pretty sure teenage girls think the workings of the floordrobe is a miracle of the natural world – where clothes magically vanish from whence they are thrown, walk themselves through the washing machine, dry themselves, fold themselves, and arrive ready to wear once again.

I guess the floordrobe works in exactly the same way as the fridge, and the kitchen food cupboards. By magic.

Don’t even get me started with washing up.

Categories
Life

A State of Continual Distraction

In keeping with the “falling off the blogging horse” theme I seem to have been following recently, I can feel myself being slowly drawn back. It’s curious how that happens. The more scientific might start talking about biorhythms. I’m more inclined to call it a state of continual distraction.

It’s Friday morning. The last day working before a week off. I don’t have any specific project work to get on with, so am doing research and development into skills I will need for an upcoming project. I always find it difficult to focus without a specific aim – I suppose it’s a little like wandering without a compass.

I’m not entirely sure what next week will be filled with. I need to get the grass cut in the back garden, but beyond that I’m not sure. Some long walks with the rest of the family might be an idea – if I can get them out of the house. There are some nice circular walks nearby – through woods, over hills, and across fields.

While writing this (and sipping coffee) I’m listening to a Spotify playlist. Claire de Lune by Claude Debussy just started playing. It always reminds me of the movie “Frankie and Johnny” – where the lead characters finally find a moment of calm after a (quite wonderful) story filled with stress, uncertainty, and yearning.

(five minutes pass while I make a second coffee, and check on the washing machine)

The washing line is now completely full of clothes. By end of day there will be mountains of folded clothes all over the dining table. When the kids emerge I will set them to work – retrieving dry clothes from the line, and folding them (to a fashion) into piles for each person. There’s no point me doing it – I no longer have a clue which clothes belong to whom. My daughters are now the same size as my other half. My simple brain has enough trouble distinguishing between “my clothes”, and “their clothes”, let alone “skinny fit t-shirt with cats on”, “black boy shorts”, “crimson leggings”, “black leggings”, and so on.

People tend to either smile knowingly, or frown when I tell them I live in a world of womens clothes, underwear, and makeup.

Anyway.

Better get on with some work.