One Domestic Goddess!

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!

Growing up!

One of my worst fears, is the fear of growing up. I've tried to delay the inevitable as much as possible but I feel it slowly creeping in like a scene out of 'The Grudge'. Everyday I notice another grey hair or wrinkle that surely wasn't there the day before. My face used to have skin like a babies bum, it's now slowly sagging and strangely discolouring!

But it's not just the superficial that's aging... I feel like my personality is also aging. A feeling I'm totally not used to - I think I've heard it refered to as maturing (the pleasant way of saying you're getting boring).

Why just the other day I was doing some loads of washing after having some visitors stay a few nights. While folding the bedding I suddenly thought to myself - "I'm a master at folding the fitted sheet"! When exactly was it that I stopped scrunching it up into a ball and shoving it in above the roughly folded doona cover? It couldn't have been too long ago. I remember opening my cupboard at Barwon Heads and having the balls of fitted sheets on the verge of bursting out each and everytime.

Over the past couple of years (mainly during my time in Vic - 'cause my house in Byron and Brunswick Heads were occassionally 'surface' clean) I've certainly lifted my game in the cleanliness stakes! These days I rarely have a day when I wouldn't be ashamed of the state of my house... I could even happily have people just drop in! In the past, you'd have to give me a weeks notice so I could get the mammoth pile of clean, but unfolded clothes off the floor in most rooms.

I remember the days when I'd sweep or vacumn once a year!
When I'd go out each and every Friday and Saturday night...
When I ate take away, sang frequently and danced every single weekend.
Now, I sweep almost daily, weekends are spent at home (still with copius amounts of piss though), I rarely gorge on KFC, I sing when I'm driving and I might dance at a wedding once a year.
What a travesty!

And then it's the baby thing. Only a couple of years ago almost all (around 99%) of my girlfriends where childless. These days that high percentage is taking a tumble. In fact, today I'm heading out to pick up a portacot for my visiting guests!

Talk with mates quickly switches from where are we going out, what drugs are we going to take, are we going to go to Splendour this year? To... when you have kids this, and when you have kids that... Or so and so is starting to crawl, I've finished breastfeeding, and I've just had my first period. The conversation is totally stacato with their eyes darting here there and everywhere or interupted by a 'Mummies talking' comment.

Suddenly, I'm the minority! And even more so due to the fact that I'm not sure I even want to enter babydom (making me a slight evil and insane individual)! Hell... I'm already married and have my own house, I even clean and cook for Christs sake! I can't get much more adult (sorry mature) than that!

Who knows... perhaps I'll come acustomed to 'maturing' and I won't find it so dull and boring. In the meantime... I'm going to party like it's 1999 (seemed like that came and went so quickly), pick up my act in the singing stakes, go get HJ's for lunch today and chuck iTunes on random for a dance in the office. If it's true that 'you're only as old as you feel'..... catch you round! I'm off for a shot of botox and to make myself some fairy bread!