Of Domestic Despair September 27, 2007
Posted by Jen in : Domestic Doings, Journal , 13commentsI frightened the dog this morning. He seems to have a strange idea of what is and what is not acceptable. I wasn’t doing anything terrible.
‘Come on, you big fat bastard,’ I was shouting. At Henry. The hoover.
Sigh.
I have yet another estate agent prancing round the house. I have been up since 5.30 and so far have: hoovered whole house (with thin end to make hoover swirls), picked up array of clothing from various floors, washed and hung out a load of washing, breakfasted children, made packed lunches, shouted at Number 2 son X 3 to put a key in his bag so that he can get in after school while I am with Number 1 son at orthodontist getting his mouth cranked open. I am now trying to arrange my features into a semblance of pleasantness for the strange man stomping up and down my clean stairs in his grubby, plasticky, slip-on shoes.
I registered with a temp agency yesterday. I can’t wait to get a job. Being at home is far too tiring.
I have, however, broken the 60% barrier on the novel. Will write a few more words once the asphyxiation caused by the estate agent’s aftershave has worn off…
Grumpy? Hormonal? Me?
