Monday, 23 June 2008

Hazmat Monday

You know a great start to a Monday? I do. Dropping an open bottle of Vietnamese fermented fish sauce all over the kitchen floor. Trust me, it's a winner.

It goes like this:

6:45 Wake from dream about stealing make up from Marks & Spencers (and really, WTF? Has my subconscious sunk so low?) by nagging feeling. Ignore.

7:00 Nagging feeling becomes overwhelming. Shite! Packed fucking lunch week! Fuck that. Whoever invented packed lunches should be burning in the hottest fiery furnace of hell, while being smote (smited? smitten? smut?) with scorpions. I hate packed lunches so much. They just exemplify all that is futile and soul-destroying about parenting. I hate every single thing about them, from my total absence of inspiration or enthusiasm, to the losing battle with the demonic cling film to clearing out the untouched sandwiches and smeared repulsive yoghurt afterwards. And anyway, I fully remember we all used to just tip them straight in the bin when we got to school. I'm right, aren't I?

7:15 Stagger downstairs and open cupboards. Stare in blank despair at mountains of non-packed lunchable foodstuffs, like spaghetti and olives and cocoa covered almonds. Sink to knees to rummage around the bottom of cupboard. Knock over the fish sauce, which helpfully has no lid. Yes, no lid. What a brilliant idea of mine that was, to fashion a cling film 'lid' to put over the top when I threw away the lid in an excess of zeal. Not at all a ticking, fermented fish time bomb.

7:16 Fish sauce! Everywhere! Going into all the gaps between the floorboards! Coating every surface of the kitchen! Fish sauce emergency! I start to hyperventilate and search around for mopping up equipment. There is no kitchen roll. I seize a yellow rag, but realise just in time it is the Space Cadette's t-shirt. In despair I take off my pyjama top and use that.

7:18 Topless cleaning. Mmmmm, sexy. I take out all the deadliest cleaning products I can find and mix them into a toxic slurry over the fish sauce. It creates an interesting yellow foam. A bit like the scum that floats in polluted waterways portrayed in geography textbooks. I throw a tea towel over the top and ignore it.

7:20 Assemble a mini mars bar, a packet of Eurostar toxic pretzels and a bottle of isotonic nuclear blue rehydration fluid. Smear Nutella on a fossilised pitta bread. Add a black banana. Hide in school bags. Figure that this many toxins will give children excellent bargaining power. Last week Lashes swapped ONE CRISP for a keyring. Maybe this week he will come home with an MP3!

7:30 Become overcome by fumes. Weep gently.

Repeat every day this week.


Persephone said...

Gaaawd... I hate packing lunches too! (I actually just hate lunch -- what a useless meal...) What complicates matters is that nuts and nut products are forbidden at most schools in Canada. Add the fact that younger daughter is a picky eater. Sigh. Fortunately, each summer, I discover something she will eat. She will eat boiled eggs, "cheater's hummus" (with the sesame -- also banned) with pita bread, and quiche. All this requires pre-planning of course, but if I make up a batch of cheater's hummus, boil some eggs, and bake a couple of dozen mini-quiches and freeze them (just the quiches; I don't freeze boiled eggs or hummus), I don't have to worry about lunches for two weeks. God bless Pizza Fridays...

Jaywalker said...

Seriously? God Persephone, respect. I would be pelting the school with frozen boiled eggs I think.
I like lunch generally. Long long long lunch. With wine. Belgian style. Actually, it's 10 am I might start my Belgian lunch now.

Persephone said...

I'll keep the frozen-eggs-for-missiles idea on ice (oh-ho-ho, I'm so witty; I kill myself...) until the last day of school next year when my daughter is safely shot of it. Unfortunately I need to play nice until then.

Oh, I should correct myself and emphasize that cheater's hummus is without sesame; that's why it's a cheat. And I have frozen it on occasion. But not intentionally.

With the right company, I'd enjoy a long lunch too, especially if the right company is treating.

Léonie said...

My God you are all cool. I have trouble feeding myself, I dread to think how I would fare having to think of (gasp) other people.

Jaywalker said...

It creeps up on you. First a goldfish, then possibly a supermarket basil plant, and finally a human infant. Appalling business. David Attenborough would not stand for it. I am sure most reptiles are self-sufficient from birth aren't they. I knew tortoises were the way to go.