There was a day last year (I'm not proud of it, but it happened) that I noticed a small bunch of mushrooms growing in-between my bathroom floor tiles.
Beige in colour, there was about four of them, all about 3cm tall. Yeah. I took a photo of them and text it to my sister with:
"Might make a mushroom risotto tonight."
(She didn't reply back for a while.)
I snapped the mushies off and then scrubbed the entire bathroom. With bleach. I try get all Buddha-like and be Zen about cleaning but it's just so soul-destroyingly boring. And apparently, some of us have special powers in the house because only WE can stick our hands into revolting cold chunky dishwater in the kitchen sink to lift the plug up. Only WE can notice when the bin needs taking out, the dust everywhere, the mess in little boys bedrooms.
Yesterday on my Facebook page I posted this pic:
This is the way my guys arrange a hand towel. (Come to think of it, I just took a photo and walked off. Stockholm Syndrome).
It set off a heap of comments and advice from people, we all just ended up agreeing and identifying with each other about out pet hates when it comes to being the main Domestic Engineer of the household. Another of mine is the bloated wet dishcloth at the bottom of the sink .... nobody but you rinses it out and hangs it back up again which means you're left with MANKY STINK-HAND ALL DAY.
Wet towels left on beds, crumbs on the cutting board, leaving your cup on the counter when all you have to do is open up the dishwasher for fricks sake how many times do I have to tell you?!
I went to my friend Naomi's house yesterday and she told me she HIDES her dishcloth where the kids can't see, and has a roll of paper towel within reach for them instead. Genius!
All of it left me thinking about this one scene I've never forgotten from Mad About You. And how it's never been more applicable than now:
Beige in colour, there was about four of them, all about 3cm tall. Yeah. I took a photo of them and text it to my sister with:
"Might make a mushroom risotto tonight."
(She didn't reply back for a while.)
I snapped the mushies off and then scrubbed the entire bathroom. With bleach. I try get all Buddha-like and be Zen about cleaning but it's just so soul-destroyingly boring. And apparently, some of us have special powers in the house because only WE can stick our hands into revolting cold chunky dishwater in the kitchen sink to lift the plug up. Only WE can notice when the bin needs taking out, the dust everywhere, the mess in little boys bedrooms.
Yesterday on my Facebook page I posted this pic:
This is the way my guys arrange a hand towel. (Come to think of it, I just took a photo and walked off. Stockholm Syndrome).
It set off a heap of comments and advice from people, we all just ended up agreeing and identifying with each other about out pet hates when it comes to being the main Domestic Engineer of the household. Another of mine is the bloated wet dishcloth at the bottom of the sink .... nobody but you rinses it out and hangs it back up again which means you're left with MANKY STINK-HAND ALL DAY.
Wet towels left on beds, crumbs on the cutting board, leaving your cup on the counter when all you have to do is open up the dishwasher for fricks sake how many times do I have to tell you?!
I went to my friend Naomi's house yesterday and she told me she HIDES her dishcloth where the kids can't see, and has a roll of paper towel within reach for them instead. Genius!
All of it left me thinking about this one scene I've never forgotten from Mad About You. And how it's never been more applicable than now:
(I still miss that show.)
Any pet peeves out there?
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Write to be understood, speak to be heard. - Lawrence Powell