My Worst Nightmare

This weekend we stayed over my side of town.  Truth tell, I was glad.  We don’t stay here enough and I feel as though my place is going to hell in a hand basket.  Of course one man’s hell is another man’s luxury and I know the Squeeze would shake his head at that description and just not see what I see.

We’d been rained out Friday night and had fought a river running through the garage.  Nearly every towel in the place was stashed under doors and the Squeeze, my daughter and I had wrestled my daughter’s furniture into the house since it was sitting in pools of water.  There was mud, bark and furniture all over the house – and still, it was a palace compared to “clean freak hell”.   We were wet as shags and bumping into furniture every time we turned around.

Saturday we had to cross to his side of town to pick up a sofa and didn’t have time to do more than a general tidy prior to going.  Boy 2 was not there but I was speechless at the mess; and there is so much stuff that it actually has a rather unpleasant odour about the place.  Things were scattered from A to Z – everything except Boy 2’s car that we were going to pick the sofa up in.

There were dishes everywhere; including a used cup tossed on the lounge room floor.  I didn’t bother to go on about it.  No point.  But really, who the hell does that?  Who makes a cup of tea, drinks it then tosses the cup on the carpeted floor?  Upside is that I think it is so bad now that even the cockroaches have decamped…

We zoomed around to pick up the car and keys from kid 2 only to arrive there and discover the back bumper has mysteriously gone and there is a large scratch down one side.  He was on borrowed time with his license and the wad of fines that arrived while he was in Vietnam would indicate that time is up; just as well given the state of his car.  Not unlike when he goes out, nothing happened to no one…  I was more worried about who/what he hit but also the fact that I doubt his car is roadworthy now, which will make things even harder for him.

I did get to grin at the nose ring he came home with…

The Squeeze is supposed to give notice at his place and leave kid 2 and clean freak hell behind to move to this side of town.  I’m certain he is worried that he will be met at the door by me in a Nazi uniform complete with riding crop.  I suspect he wouldn’t mind the riding crop so much, probably not even the uniform; but I find it amusing that he doesn’t get the reality that I have no intention trying to turn him into Betty Crocker.  Him in an apron is nowhere near as appealing as he would find my uniform.  My house is clean because that is how I enjoy it and as long as he doesn’t want to drink tea and toss the cup on the floor, we’ll get along fine. 

Aside from living in a hovel with messy kids and me turning into a pimp; well hell, it appears my jeans paid for Boy 1 to get laid…  It can’t happen fast enough for me because we seem to spend so much time going back and forwards that there is no routine. 

My daughter is busy apartment hunting – it can’t happen quickly enough for her or I.  We like our own space; she is responsible and likes to stand on her own feet.  Still, she needs to save a little more and like the Squeeze and I, she has had houses dropping all over the place in the form of car issues and mobile phone issues so just can’t afford it.  And this year was supposed to be a good year for us all… We are still waiting for that bit to start.

Last week the Squeeze emailed to say maybe we should get a big place by the beach with a room for Daughter, Son 2 and Son 3 on the weekends we have him.

I replied to say “This isn’t about Boy 2 is it?”

No reply.  I sent the email to my daughter who replied “is this a boy 2 thing” which I found bloody funny.  Great minds think alike.

The squeeze replied to say “no”; but I suspect that was due to my “you just described my worst nightmare” line.