Friday, 19 November 2010

I'm Clearly Not in Charge


Sometimes I feel like I’ve lost control of my own home. Between the chaos of two little girls, a husband who thinks dining room furniture’s sole purpose is for hanging garments, two different housekeepers and a parade of nannies and babysitters, I sometimes think I’ve lost my mind. Like when I opened the cupboard where my vacuums live and found a bag of oranges. They didn’t belong to me. I couldn’t imagine why they’d be there. But sometimes the best thing is simply to close the door and walk away. (They were the property of my regular nanny, who was trying to keep them with her purse, which she put with the vacuums to keep safe. Okay, sure. Perfectly clear.)

Anyway, there is sort of this perpetual scavenger hunt going on in our home. Attempting to guess where a “helpful” soul put something I need can be frustrating at best. I really try and remember that they mean well but seriously. Leave things where they are. If you find porn and a rubber dress in my underwear drawer, just leave it. Don’t fold the rubber in plastic and set the shine spray on top. That embarrasses both of us. Just leave it where you find it.

Today I needed duct tape. The single most useful invention ever, right up there with tampons and lemon zesters. I keep my duct tape in my underwear drawer. (Yes, right on top of the rubber dress. Hush it.) Because that is where it belongs. Sometimes my breasts need a flexible adhesive to lift them into an appropriate position for a dress that doesn’t allow for a proper bra. Duct tape does the trick. So that is where the roll lives.  But today I needed to insulate my watering system (another story for another day involving a dead £750 plant) and I needed my tape. And it wasn’t in my drawer.

What ensued was a tortured hunt through my home, complete with four-letter words held just under y breath. Why can't people just leave well enough alone? I finally found it, 20 minutes later. In the basket with the screwdrivers and hammers. And packing tape. Honestly. Who would think to stick it there?


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