A while back, I wrote a blog on growing up and hating it... Today, I'm less than 24 hours off the ripe old age of 32 and tomorrow, I will be responsible for something other than myself. Bit scary really, considering most of the time I can't even be held responsible for my own actions.
While sitting on the can, having my morning boz like clockwork, my mind began to wander to domestic tasks. It all started when I went to wipe my arse and noticed I was using the last scrap of bog roll... so, I leaned over to the cupboard grabbed a few more and then (drumroll please) without even thinking I took the cardboard centre off the hanger, chucked it in the bin and changed it for a fresh roll. It was like it had become an involuntary action! I can't recall when I started to do this... I NEVER use to change the roll - just had the poo tickets sitting on the floor or on the cistern.
Last night, for example, there was nothing on TV. So, what did I decide to do with my time? I cleaned the shower... with a toothbrush! Easy off Bam'd the fuck outta the fucker, got on my hands and knees and scrubbed it to kingdom come. It's lovely and gleaming now.
So, what other things have changed that I haven't really noticed... until it was too late! Well, I've started making the bed, every morning. What the fuuuck? Yes, every morning! I can't believe it myself. I think in the past the only time I made my bed was when we'd have visitors over and even then they'd be lucky to lay eyes on my bedroom, let alone the unmade bed. But, I like it... I like opening the blinds each morning and the sun streaming in - something you can't do when you're room is a fucking disgraceful mess!
I mentioned, in that previous blog, the fitted sheet folding. I'm still in shock that my sheets aren't rolled into a ball and squished where ever they fit. That they are neatly folded and placed with their matching bed sets.And as for sweeping? Well, I'm quite sure this has something to do with timber floors and white lino, but I sweep on a daily basis - sometimes more than once. A few years ago, the only time the broom would see the light of day was when I'd drag it out for use as a dancing partner or microphone when on the piss.
What else? I've always been rather particular when washing dishes, but these days (as some of my close friends will know) no-one else can wash my glasses - I simply won't allow it. Some of you know and won't even bother to ask. If you do end up doing the washing up, know that I will be doing them again. I mean no offence... I just have to be the one to do them to make sure they are done properly. Too many times, I've allowed others to do it only to grab a glass out that still has greasy hand marks or lipstick stuck to the rim.
My husband is in total shock (and my parents would have a heart attack if they realised) that I've recently even started picking up my own tissues and binning them promptly. I am a tissue-holic (mainly due to my incessant hayfever) and if in my own space, you will find tissues hiding everywhere... particularly in the bedroom. They are under my bed, under my pillow, on the bedside table, in the bedside table drawers and sometimes even in my shoes (gross I know). I was crook a couple of weeks back and my nose was running like a tap on bore water and there was not a single tissue left lying around. Amazing! I'm quite proud of this latest achievement!
What does the future hold? Can I get more domesticated? Well, the test will be living in puppy town. At this stage, I'm like a mother who insists she will be using cloth nappies only to realise the mountain of shitty nappies piling up around her and instantly changes to disposables, and I plan on making young Billbo his dinner. Rice (or pasta), meat and vegies for breakfast and dry food for dinner. Will it last??? Who can say... but I'll give it a go. Why not? I've already become a goddess of the domestic nature... my life is practically over!