Himself is on annual leave so they all traipsed over to Norn Irn for a visit. Catching up with the family, mostly to be spoiled rotten by doting grandparents. They’ve returned home rested, relaxed and full of the cold.
Having been safely tucked away through lockdown, I wonder if we’ve all forgotten how to be ‘under the weather’, because it’s no more than a common cold having been on a plane busy with both people and germs.
The in-laws’ house is about 40,000 degrees hotter than the sun and it rained the entire trip. Not entirely conducive to bracing Irish countryside walks resulting in rosy red cheeks.
‘I don’t want a bit of it’
I presume it’s unreasonable to ask them to stay elsewhere till it passes, I don’t want a bit of it. I’m already behind with work as it’s not been my most organised hour.
Being poorly hasn’t affected their appetites and, while it’s only been a few days, I’ve forgotten how to cook for a family of five.
I’ve enjoyed just chucking on some toast and having my biggest decision be choosing between strawberry or apricot jam. I even managed to catch up with the laundry mountain and clean the empty fridge.
Any plans to use his time off productively have been scuppered by the weather, seemingly impossible to ‘sort’ the gardens while it tips down with unapologetic enthusiasm.
Fine, we’ll sort the house. Maybe the five piles of summer clothes to be retired until next year? Except middle kid traipsed off to school, mid downpour, in her boots and a waterproof jacket, returning home half a stone lighter having melted during September’s scorching afternoon sun.
A digital spring-clean?
It makes me wonder if a more ‘digital’ spring (okay, September) clean might be as satisfying?
Countless old mobiles and at least four ancient laptops, languishing, sent to drawers or shelves to die.
Delicately balanced on top of a pile of ‘still to be read’ books, including titles by Marie Kondo promising my direction on how to ‘Spark Joy’.
Why the delay? What’s stopping us getting rid of them? Do they possibly contain unsaved baby photos or vital documents?
Don’t ask me what document I might need dragged up from 1998 but the photos would be a loss if we didn’t check before we chuck. Are they still viable even? Who knows.
My version of tech support is himself launching through the house, looking for my charger, when I announce, usually mid column, my laptop is about to die.
As for the emails
The actual tech isn’t the only thing needing dealt with. I am the owner of several email addresses, a feat not worthy of boasting about.
I am sure we all have numerous work ones and multiple personal accounts, but how many are actually needed?
The one set up, as a teenager, a billion years ago, when email was first invented. My faithful Hotmail account.
A username, email address bordering on embarrassing and definitely announcing too many (unasked) details. Where subscriptions to everything I’ve ever liked or shown an interest in go to die, or sent off to the junk folder to have a word with themselves.
Emails from mother and baby sites – how long do they believe my kids STAY babies and should I be worried I’m still being offered bulk buy nappies – maybe they’re intended for me now?
A weekly round-up from Mumsnet delivering nuggets of advice us Mums can’t live without.
My staunch refusal to dip my toes onto the chat pages remains strong, mainly through fear of bored grotty teenage boys ready to strike out at poor tired, helpless mammies, like me.
Ah, the sales…
News of sales from various shops I can no longer afford and definitely cannot fit into – I’m a massive fan of body positive movement, but I think I’m too old.
My twenties were spent needing to loose weight, my thirties needing to be healthier and now, overnight I’m supposed to what? Feel GOOD about myself? Utter madness, where would I even start?
Promises from discount sites assuring me I’ll NEVER find a better deal. A more delicious dinner. A cheaper stay.
We’re booked hotel overnight on Wednesday so if someone could remove ‘Itison’ from my inbox that would be super.
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