Wednesday, 21 April 2010

Breathe, breathe, breathe

I had the most wretched day yesterday. Am I the girl who cried gloom? Probably. But this one was properly, properly, epoch-definingly bad. I Can't Talk About It bad. It was the kind of day where coming home to nothing more than the exploded innards of a soft toy (though on reflection, these are actually the best kind of exploded innards to find) is enough to send you burrowing under the duvet cover with a paper bag on your head for all eternity. But look, weepette is looking after me.

He's like the Littlest Hobo*, but sleeker.

Look at that beady Pharaonic eye peering out.

And now I am going to try and unearth my evil nemesis, the hoover, and spend the morning in a mindless, symbolic, cleaning frenzy. First I will hoover up Nemo's innards. Then I will change the no-longer-white Ektorp covers. Then I will wash every item of clothing I can find. After that, all bets are off. Kitchen cupboards? Maybe something involving a hammer? Cutting the lawn with nail clippers? Anything is possible. Whenever an intrusive thought crosses my mind, I will sniff more cleaning product. That sounds like a plan, no?

(* I wanted to link to the Littlest Hobo for those of you not familiar with it and then got distracted by the episode synopses on Wikipedia. They are GRITTY. I particularly liked:

"a farmer and his mail order bride seem incompatible"
"Hobo mans a disco panel and helps the victim of an underworld frame up"
"parachuted into a fog bound town with an antidote for a child who has swallowed poison"
"Hobo befriends a three year old girl believed to have drowned in a sparsely populated area"
"Hobo stalks an ominous carnival patron"
"Bootleggers threaten a migrant who could expose them".

Also, there is one involving the theft of a champion whippet. I feel compelled to hunt it down and watch).


Mrs Jones said...

Look at that doggie - he loooooves you sooooo much.

It will get better. Hugs.

Em said...

Sending you 'there, there everything will be alright' vibes. If I could I would send you a Hobo who hoovers...

The darling weepette is the answer to immediate comfort. When the sun goes down you MUST drink. I speak from experience - but put all cleaning equipment away first. Again, from experience.

And, wishing you a much better day tomorrow x

Alison Cross said...

I think that there's too much emphasis on keeping your house clean. When you have children, it's just a waste of precious internet-surfing time.

The potential problem is going in with all guns blazing...emptying drawers, dragging out clothing....and then running out of steam about half ten when Popmaster comes on.

Then when you look around, you have a shitload of tidying up to do and you can't be fagged.

My Cleaning Tip - just do 30 minute segments of work. At the end of every 30 minutes, your house should look good enough to forget the cleaning for another aeon and relax with a Sudoku and a gin.

Ali x

Anonymous said...

Hang in there, Waffle! We're all right behind you, so keep calm and carry on!
Manic cleaning is a great idea, it'll channel the anxiety out of your body and take your mind off things for a while.
I suffer from anxiety a lot(I like to tell myself it's unfocused, in fact it's quite specific but I'd rather not acknowledge the reasons, seems easier that way, although I know I'm only fooling myself). The only thing that seems to help is to just get up and do things, mechanically, one after another. Even emptying the dishwasher or doing the laundry is an achievement on a bad day.
It's so, so hard sometimes. I hope things get better for you soon. Your dog is adorable.

Anonymous said...

Dear Waffle,
Although we are not as appealilng as the Weepetee, we are all sending hugs. I love your blog, and you make me laugh out loud so often, but I don't want you to be miserable!

Lisa-Marie said...

I want to give you a hug and some biscuits! I do cleaning when I am upset too, it's the making things new that is the comfort.

Hang on in there Emma, we are all here for you to tell your stuff! x

Jessica said...

sending forehead strokes and "there theres".

I too, use cleaning as an outlet. Something that looks better than it did reminds me at the very least that there are certain things that remain in my control, and that I can, at least, make something better.


AnonyGay said...

Stolli and Bolli, darling, Stolli and Bolli. (Or Hendrick's and tonic - either will do really - in fact, just get some damn single malt and plop yourself in front of a weepy movie.)

I hope today is filled with more joy and less agony.

hairyfarmerfamily said...

Steady as she goes, dear.
Hang on in there.

MargotLeadbetter said...

On the bright side, your toe nails look a lot better than mine. You have my permission to feel superior about it.

Anonymous said...

Virtual "it will be better tomorrow" hugs and suggestion: get a cleaning lady. It costs nothing. (8 euros per/h)If you have her 4 hours once week, at least she'd do all the big cleaning,,and leave you just a little bit of mess.
And make her come when you're not at home.

katyboo1 said...

oh pooh plop pooh. I have been going to e-mail you, but the mail reader I am using on holidays does not allow me to access my address book, so I can't. Needless to say, I have been reading your posts voraciously and am sending maple syrup flavoured love from far away. And I do not thank you for making me think of the littlest hobo music because it is bad and wrong. Gah. xxxxx

Fat Controller said...

I rather liked 'Hobo saves two draft horses from the glue factory'

Johnners said...

Am sending you "keep a'had" proper Geordie vibes, and also the scent of the banana loaf I made today, as it smells very cheerful somehow. Hope the nasties feck off. x

Z said...

Oh, I'm so sorry love. After my father died, my mother said that one of the dogs saved her from suicide, as he comforted her and needed her (made me feel a bit inadequate, actually, as I was only 16 at the time, but there we go, she was only being honest).

And if your place isn't big enough, you can come and clean mine. In one room, cobwebs actually festoon the ceiling. I rather love them, but I'm Big (not physically, you understand, as I'm svelte against anyone but you [I lie, but how are you to know? Heh.]) so will sacrifice them to your hoovering need.

Wallfishwife said...

'Maybe tomorrow, I'll want to settle down; until tomorrow, I'll just keep moving on.'

Oh how I loved The Littlest Hobo!

Anonymous said...

Get cleaning! Less clutter and dirt on the outside often means fresher, cleaner vistas on the inside...

irretrievablybroken said...

Blame the volcano. I'm blaming the volcano for everything, all the way across the pond...

It'll get better, if only because it always does. At least you don't have stress induced SHINGLES like, er, me. Volcano induced shingles, I mean. Stupid volcano.

I heart the weepette. I brake for him.

minnesotatransplant said...

The description of your day describes mine as well. Except for the innards. At least you made it amusing. Hang in there.

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