Tuesday, 16 November 2010

Typhoid and other triumphs

A warm welcome to my new viral overlord, who is squatting in my sinuses and sapping my will to live. Maybe it's not viral, though, maybe the children did in fact lay eggs in my spinal fluid while I slept last week? Whatever, I have an almighty dose of teh sick.

This is a shame because right now I should be writing something serious and introspective about the fact that I moved out exactly a year ago. 17 November 2009, I looked back to check. That means that the amorphous green blob on the ceiling has been up there for nearly a year too, ditto the smell of drains. We can pinpoint, 365 days ago, the start of my freefall into financial ruin and unchecked squalor. So yay! Yay me! Yay orange house that smells of drains! Yay green slimy ectoplasm on the bedroom ceiling! Today is a day for focussing on the positives: I have not yet been evicted, locked out, or killed anyone from typhus or other diseases of insanitary housing and I have swept the floor many, many, many times. That, surely, is 365 days of win. I do most of my weeping in the park, anyway, which means that the Salmon Palace remains a place of optimism and joy, mingled with tiny cubes of Lego, feral paperwork and the musky smell of fox shit and defective drainage.

Typically, I am not actually at home, on this, my first anniversary of solo living. I am in London mixing my cold remedies, while the weepette gnaws mournfully at the wiring and pees in my spare handbag as it waits for rescue in the form of a Portugese teenager. This should not stop me making a list of Ambitious Projects for my next 12 months of solo living. We will leave the introspection for another day when I'm not tripping on Sudafed, ok?

Ambitious Household Projects
(you can quiz me on my performance in another year)

1. Earn enough money to pay a cleaner. This currently lies in the extreme realms of fantasy, but it is a highly motivating fantasy.

2. Remove the rotting paddling pool from the back garden. See also: plush orange spider, ice cream scoop, paper bags of unplanted bulbs, strange unidentified green plastic thing.

3. Learn to master the heating (which has already defeated 3 adult males).

4. Not be evicted.

5. Identify and eliminate the smell from the basement.

6. Remove the green disembodied leg from bedroom ceiling.

7. Change lightbulbs. All the broken ones, not just the two I can reach.

8. Get the 2 pictures lying in a large envelope on top of the fridge framed.

9. Have people round for dinner. Uncritical ones with hardy immune systems.

10. Acquire some piece of furniture to put the ever-expanding mountain of pointless craft materials in.

11. Make the spare room more welcoming and less of a crime scene.

12. Reach a point where someone can tell me - in a professional context - that they "have seen pictures of your house on the internet", as happened this summer, and not feel the need to put a paper bag over my head.

Can you think of any more Ambitious Projects for me to fail at?


Bryony said...

You can come to my house and deal with the Toilet of Doom or form an effective, functioning government in Belgium. You choose. B

ganching said...

I think you should have a stab at writing a guide to bad housekeeping. It would of course be a best seller which would help you achieve a number of your other goals.

(My word verification is astab. Perhaps you could have a competition to see which of your readers can seamlessly insert their wv into their comment. Please, please do so I can be the winner and come first.)

Lola said...

I have a sister whom I require to attend scenes of devastation and despair, armed with a sense of humour and a large bottle of bleach.

I do not know if you have a sister, but I'm sure you have friends with hardy souls who do not need to be pampered if they were to visit for a weekend, but instead would mount ladders, scrub toilets, and assemble Ikea furniture. It's much more fun with two, and you can spur each other on (e.g. bar the door and forbid access to cocktails until some work is done).

Seriously, I would come and help if I could get time off gulag for good behaviour!

frau antje said...

The heating around these parts is one of their little jokes, perhaps the adult males are too, I'm still gathering data (and no, I do not find it difficult to be objective).

If your future cleaner was good enough, it would knock almost everything else off your list. I think you could fund this by pitching Identify and Eliminate to HBO. Don't know who would play you, or the adult male...but the potential for entanglements, plot twists, and showing disgusting things on television is endless. Plus, it would create jobs. Times must must be hard for weepette wranglers also.

Bath Bun said...

The only important things to ensure your house remains a home, is to keep cupboards stocked with British tea (and hopefully biscuits, cakes and for the next few weeks, mince pies) at all times.

Paula said...

If you need a pair of OCD mind controlled hands, you just need to ask me and I will heartedly go and help in the Salmon palace. I am not a teenager anymore, but I am Portuguese, I could also help with the Weepette :)
I spend countless time trying to figure out a better, more logical way to organize what is already pretty much organized at home.
In the meantime, Things just don't go anywhere... But my organization scheme is brilliant.

Maybe I can make some profit out of it?...

Anonymous said...

my fantasy is i acquire a mute but hygenic lodger, good with his/her hands and preferably with slight OCD. the kind of OCD that makes you clean but not crazy.

Anonymous said...

Came across a site you might enjoy (featuring lots of owls, including the inimitable owl in a box...)


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