My life in tick boxes…

I didn’t get much feedback after the meeting the Squeeze, Harridan and Kid had the other weekend to decide the fate of my life.   We had a house full of people at the time so I only received the briefest of updates.  Basically, things weren’t going to change, other than the fact that the kid wanted to spend more time with the Squeeze.

For some reason, in the world according to the Harridan, Squeeze and Kid, spending more time is an extremely precise activity without room for negation or variation.   For example, dinner and a movie do not meet the ‘spending more time’ criteria.   It is only ‘spending more time’ if he is in our home, ‘hanging’ – for the whole night.   This means 24/7 television.  Given that it is now summer I can only assume that would entail a cricket argument re the television - every single day. 

Frankly, this is my idea of Hell.

Personally, my thoughts are that the mid-week dinner followed by an activity is far better as bonding time.  There is nil bonding in our house.  The only conversation that occurs at home is the Squeeze’s repeated requests that are subsequently ignored.  Ie:  “go have a shower and get ready, we are leaving”.   I heard that same statement ten times yesterday morning.  At one point when the kid slunk into the dining room and started to unwrap the newspaper, I said “you start reading that newspaper and I’ll give you the wooden spoon!” It may have been an idle threat, but he got the picture and mooched off to the bathroom.

But then I entered the land of bliss.  Finally, I had the house to myself for the afternoon so I proceeded to do a bit of a tidy.

The day before I had run the vacuum cleaner over the house and in a pique, grabbed the armful of clothes haphazardly strewn about the floor on the Squeeze’s size of the bed and tossed them behind the door so I could vacuum.  If you are wondering why I didn’t open the wardrobe on his side and just throw them in there, that would be because there was no way I could fling them in there without them tumbling out to hit me in the face.  His wardrobe is clean freak hell and I try not to look inside when I open it.

However, now in tidy mode and feeling a tad guilty, I grabbed the mound of clothes and began sorting in to washing/folding piles.  Emptying pockets found all manner of crap that would otherwise dot clothes throughout the wash but the find of the day was a folded piece of paper where the Harridan had drawn a bunch of tick boxes with the options for the future.

Out of the 6 options the Harridan had noted in boxes, 5 of them had my name in it.  How the hell do these fools think that they can sit and draw boxes and design my life without me being part of that discussion?  Here they are, playing Russian roulette with MY LIFE!  

Sorry about the difficult to read names; I de identified!