thief of time

Wednesday, March 16, 2005

Getting Ready

I’m going home for a visit after a break of quite a few years and I’m sure there weren’t half the things to do when I went the last time.

Of course, the last time I went by myself for a family wedding, so my husband was able to stay and man the fort (are we allowed to say that any more?). This time the kids are going to have to look out for themselves and trying to anticipate everything that’s needed, or may be needed, is driving me crazy.

I had my husband check out our sewer “hot spots” last week, to make sure there were no encroaching roots invading the clay tiles. One of these days, in the far distant future, we’ll have a plumber come in and do something more permanent, but until then my husband has installed easy access areas where the roots of our horrible camphor laurel can be pulled out when they go searching for more tasty food than that available in the honest ground. It’s no wonder the tree is so massive, with the extra vitamins it gets.

So far, all looks clear, which my son will be very pleased about.

Then, there’s the buying everything under the sun, so that basic necessities won’t run out. Our house is starting to look like a shop in some spots and we’re only going to be away for a bit over a month.

I offered to run classes on replacing the toilet paper on the toilet spindle, which is a constant concern and all I got was rolled eyes and “Mu-um!” They may feel that it’s a task they don’t need to brush up on, but I haven’t noticed it being practised yet.

One good thing is that neither of them needs lessons on ironing, so I at least can be sure they’ll make a stab at going out of the house looking semi-presentable. Their only peculiarity is that they only iron what they need, when they need it. My daughter used to have to be at work first thing in the morning, literally. Far be it from her to iron her uniform the night before, when she was doing little but watching television, or playing on the computer. Instead, she’d drag herself out of bed and around the house, looking like the walking dead, and then have to get the iron and ironing board out to get herself ready for the day. I’d love to know where the common sense comes to play.

We won’t even talk about cleaning their rooms! I’m just afraid it’s all going to spill out into the rest of the house. Most of the time I feel my daughter’s room should be condemned as an OHS hazard, as it’s often impossible to get in the door. A shovel wouldn’t come amiss. The thoughts of all this encroaching into the living areas of the rest of the house fill me with horror.

Their grandma has offered to keep her eye on things. I don’t know what makes me more worried—the thoughts of her fretting about things or the thoughts of the children not fretting about anything at all!

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