Tuesday, February 1, 2011
A Manifesto - For a Moron
I tend to spend a bit of time in ‘Clean Freak Hell’ just cleaning up and rearranging. This is in an attempt to have the house appear in some small way, even remotely hygienic and organised. In reality, we all know that I’d be better off standing at the front door and tossing in a cup of petrol and then flicking in a match. No amount of moving stuff around will ever get this place organised and clean.
I’ve told the Squeeze on several occasions; for me to clean it, I’d need a mini skip out the front to toss the junk in, them to all move out and about three weeks with decent cleaning products; and even then, I don’t think I’d want to live there. I still get nightmares where that little cockroach squashed on the bathroom floor, gets up and starts running around.
I’m not sure how long he has been there but it’s quite a while I assume; so the build-up of “stuff” is horrendous. It wouldn’t take much more effort to be the next ‘house of hell’ on one of those cheesy current affair shows.
Initially he and the Harridan would take it in turns living week on and off. Swapping from Clean Freak Hell to Velvet Wearing Country; although I’m tipping neither was that much different. Every cupboard is packed to the rafters with things that should have found their way to a wheelie bin years ago and some of it is hers, so he isn’t totally on his own in the “clean freak hell” dept. And I freely admit, I'm over the top in the clean stakes. In fact the moving between houses is creating an ugly vibe at my place - it's starting to look a little too lived in for my liking! That Boy 1, 2 and 3 are incapable of actually putting anything away or picking anything up is a learned behaviour (well at least their friends pick up stuff. Oh wait, that is when they are stealing my jeans!)
I have previously mentioned to the Squeeze that there isn’t a hope in holy hell that I would have let my kid stay there when they were young. I’m no velvet wearer banning antibiotics or sending a list a mile long thinking that the person on the other end is a moron, but I like to think the kids will receive the basic requirements of life; like not contracting salmonella… Flea bites or waking up with a cockroach camping in their ear.
And here is where it all gets strange to me. If the kid is sick and you have to send a manifesto detailing the most basic of requirements that any simpleton would know; let alone an adult who has in fact raised three children without killing them – how can you not see the red flags surrounding the house you are sending him to? How can you think that penicillin is “evil”... Yet not question the scum in the bath that has moved passed slime and into sludge and therefore you have added the element of a “slip” factor!
When Boy 3 was sick the last time, I was utterly astounded to find upon my arrival, the kind of note you would perhaps leave to the twelve year old baby sitter (if mentally retarded) – which even more astounding, the Squeeze had actually picked up with the kid and brought home. Personally, I’d have paused for an hour or two and cut it into tiny little bits and left it in the same position; or perhaps burn it and leave the ash there. I mean how bloody insulting! I’d have certainly left my own little subtle message; it’s that or a baseball bat to her head…
Now you probably wonder where I’m going with this and why I’m even talking about it. Water under the bridge, right..?
Well on the weekend, I found the babysitting manifesto of requirements for the sick kid while moving the bookcase and desk and decided to scan it, remove all of the actual phone numbers for the “Call this… Call that…” and upload so that you can see exactly what the hell we are dealing with here.
Remember, prior to reading, that this kid is 13.5 years old. All I can think of is that the poor kid has been dragged out of his velvet wearing school and is going to the school that his mother teachers at this year. Let’s just completely stunt this kids ability to interact with another human…
And if you wonder why I picture Anthony Hopkins in a dress and wig – this is why…
Posted by Mistress at 8:23 PM