Housework

It’s always nice to get a long weekend. Shame the sun took an attack of shyness though. So what did we do? Went to see Wolverine with the wee fella and he gave it ten out of ten, which is on the generous side. I would have given it 9.5. But what does he know, he’s only 11. Actually I would give it 7.5, but the joke wouldn’t have worked then. There’s lots of explosions, the action never lets up and the bad guy gets his comeuppance. What more can you ask for? The Hugh Jackman groupies – i.e. Sheila and Gillian will love it; he runs through the forest in the skuddy.

Now its time to get ready for the rest of the week and I’ve got an ironing that would choke my pal’s chocolate Labrador. Sweartogod, this dog could eat towels for Scotland. I should have enlisted the help of my sister; the Queen of Chaos (QoC) when she was over. As she doesn’t have a P.C. of her own (she’s too busy spending her cash on looking glamorous to join the digital age) I took the opportunity to introduce her to her online alter ego. She loved it. Realises it is all done with affection and besides the comparison with Kylie appealed to her vanity. After reading a few postings she paused and pursed her lips – will I make any money from this, she asked? Only if you get the puppies out and we set me up as your online pimp, was the answer. Her response to this suggestion was in the negative, no matter how much I told her Kylie lookalikes could make on the web.

Whenever we meet up again after a few days of absence her capacity for speech astonishes me afresh each time. I mean, how could I possibly forget how much she talks? She even chased me into the kitchen at one point when I made a move to put on the kettle, just to make absolutely sure I didn’t miss a word. An hour later I had to stop her following me up to the loo. It truly is a wonder of the world. And quite exhausting. Also quite fatal, when combined with her inability to edit the words that stream from her mouth.
For example...

...we enter the living room. We sit down. She looks around herself still talking about whatever she was yakking about in the car. I expected some kind of comment, because me and housework is like me and watching TV while celebrities dance/ skate/ drive/ date/catch swine flu. It just ain’t going to happen. Now your relative might run a finger along the fireplace and look pointedly at the dust that is now masking their fingerprint. Not, QoC. Without pausing for breath she seamlessly changes the conversation.
- I’m so jealous, she says.
- How’s that, I ask.
- The way you can leave your house in the morning when it’s like a hovel.
- Was...hovel... really the word you were looking for, I ask while looking round at the melee that is my living room, trying not to be offended.
- Yeah. Hovel, she answers while watching some boy bland on MTV.
I’m now thinking that this could be the blueprint for future interactions with people. It can only be easy being totally honest when the reaction of the person you are speaking so bluntly to doesn’t reach you.