Archive for the ‘Life in general’ Category
I was diagnosed with this when I was 19, but thankfully 99% of the time I am able to lead a normal life and don’t have to think about it. But for a while, it really wasn’t funny. The Laughing Housewife states the case beautifully, and I consider myself one of the lucky ones, thanks to a great doctor and a supportive family. If you want to find out more, read on.
The Sock Thief
Posted on: 05/05/2011
Last night I sorted out the laundry whilst watching a little TV, and left a couple of the piles on the sofa to deal with in the morning.
This morning I was trying to get some work done – prior to dealing with said laundry – and I was mildly distracted on several occasions by the sound of long, pitiful yowling.
Oldest child comes wandering in, wondering what to do about having put both pairs of school shorts in the wash and having nothing left for today, when the third bout of yowling occurs from somewhere upstairs.
‘Socks,’ I mutter, engrossed in my work.
‘Socks?’ queries oldest child?
‘Yeah, socks. That nutty cat has stolen the socks again. Do you want to have a look?’
Oldest one giggles and runs off, shorts temporarily forgotten. Reports back to confirm it was indeed socks.
We have two cats. Silk, the boy cat who doesn’t realise he’s been neutered. And Velvet, the girl cat for whom the word ‘neurotic’ was invented. All cats have their idiosyncrasies, and Velvet has so many she is an entertainment show in her own right. The Sock Thief persona is one we have enjoyed since she was a kitten.
Every time I wash socks – particularly small baby socks, but any will do – she hunts them down (off the line on occasions), finds a special place for them, and yowls loudly and at length about her triumphant capture.
Today is the first time, however, that she has actively hunted down three pairs of socks in a row.
As if they were a trophy kill, she displays them in prominent positions.. as if to say, ‘You’re my top human. You let me tunnel under the duvet at night. This is my gift to you.’ She has kindly left one pair on the landing, one pair on the bed and one on the stairs.
I have to admit, I do prefer the socks to the live/freshly killed alternative. And there is something immensely reassuring about a neurotic cat who brings you trophy socks stolen from the laundry pile.
Party planning
Posted on: 25/04/2011
In a few days’ time we’ll be having a big birthday celebration. And when I say big birthday, let’s just say it’s got a zero at the end of it. We’ve been planning a mini-banquet – we are in France after all – and the children have been hard at work making decorations.
My mum is currently laid up with the cold smallest one and I gave her. If I thought smallest one had it bad, Mum takes the biscuit. It’s so bad she can’t lie down without coughing.
I have turned into the matron from hell. You know, the sort that won’t let you lift a finger even to blow your nose.
Why? I hear you ask.
Well, the reasons are twofold. Firstly there’s the guilt factor. I did, after all, give her the dreaded virus.
But mainly it’s the big do we’re having on Sunday. If she’s not healthy all that planning I did will come to nothing. And we can’t have that.
(Also, we were here one Christmas when eldest one was tiny, she tried to do too much with a cold, and ended up with pneumonia. You too would be cracking the whip to ensure she stays in bed if you had that lingering in your memory, wouldn’t you?)
The curse of the iPlayer
Posted on: 22/04/2011
BBC iPlayer is accessible on my TV at home. It’s a little sporadic because the media provider we subscribe to is rather unreliable, but more often than not, we can choose what we want to watch, and when we want to watch it, without having to resort to digging out a DVD.
Now we’re here, we have all the channels we have at home, but out of the country, we have no iPlayer. Which means that when you sit down after ten o’clock to watch something, you can’t just pause it when you’re ready for bed and watch the remainder of your murder mystery the next day.
No, you have to stay up late and watch it through to the end if you don’t want to be writhing in bed wondering who the murderer was.
As with all technology, we are so sure we can do without it, but we really don’t want to.
Especially when we’ve been stuck into a really good whodunit.
The tab tardis
Posted on: 21/04/2011
As I type I have numerous tabs open on my browser. Seriously. Counting them now I have nineteen tabs currently open.
count 'em - nineteen.
Sometimes, particularly when I’m studying, this can happen. I define a search parameter on Google Scholar, and reams of potentially useful articles are listed on my screen. I feel compelled to open them before I accidentally navigate away from the search, and then, until I have the time and wherewithal to actually read said articles, they stay on my browser.
So far these articles have been sitting there for about twelve hours. I can’t bear to shut down my computer without reading them, so I’ll put the laptop into hibernation and have them staring at me in the morning.
And now I’m trying to remember what I did before they put tabs into browsers, because I’m fairly sure I wouldn’t have coped well.
Oh yes, they made you open everything in a new window and jammed up your computer’s woefully inadequate memory.
I’m not particularly looking forward to ploughing through seventeen articles in the morning, but I am glad that I have a computer that can handle them.
Make up, wake up
Posted on: 19/04/2011
I always find that when I do hair and make up properly in the mornings, feel totally ready for anything the day can throw at me. I am less inclined to faff around, or watch TV, or sneak in a nap.
There must be some psychological trigger, though I can’t quite get my head around it.
Of course, hair and make up can take some considerable time to deal with, especially if you are not blessed with natural good looks. I feel that if you devote the time to do it slowly and carefully, though, you will be rewarded with increased productivity for the rest of the day.
That’s not entirely realistic, though. I can’t see myself sacrificing twenty minutes of much-needed sleep over it. So I found this link: 10 best speedy hair and make up tricks and I’m considering trying some of them.
Mind you, it will take some time to develop the habit. 95% of the time I go make up free. But the benefit of doing it means I’m certainly going to give it a go.
What do you think? Does make up bring you more zest?
The internet vultures
Posted on: 18/04/2011
I’ve had a relatively productive day today. I’ve made corrections on one of the two pieces of work I need to finish while I’m out here. When I get home it should only require the odd tweak here and there till it’s fit to hand in.
The word ‘relatively’, though, because yesterday I finally managed to persuade the computer to connect to the wireless router.
As such, I have fallen prey to the vultures of the internet. Facebook circled round, saw me at a mental block with my work and swooped in. Miniclip was a partner in crime; for the best part of two hours it had me playing a particularly unimpressive game. Even Twitter gathered round to peck at the remnants.
Somehow, when I have work to do, I always spend more time faffing about on the net than I do on the work. This is why I try to go to the library to study when I get the chance. No connection there. But there was a sleeping baby to consider on this occasion, so I was connected, and as ever, I became a victim of the vultures.
One day they’ll make a magic potion I can take before I sit down to work, which keeps me out of sight of those hunchbacked birds.
But, knowing me, I probably wouldn’t take it even if they did. I seem to be a willing victim.
I got a bit depressed with driving for three days to arrive to the bickering, as you will know if you looked me up a couple of days ago.
Since then I am still indecisive as to whether I should point out where they are going wrong or not. (Currently, if it bothers me too much I ask them to put a lid on it and save it for later. I say ask, it’s more of an order.)
I read somewhere that bickering is addictive. I’m not sure about that, but I do believe it is very habit-forming. It’s like you get a little hit, albeit negative, every time you say something nasty to someone.
But how much better would it be to avoid that negativity? Well, I think we all know the answer to that. And of course none of us live in a perfect world. That resolution I made back in the new year not to lose it with the kids also applied to much beloved. And I have lost it with him just the once in the last three months or so, when we had a fundamental disagreement about something that really mattered. (Of course, I’ve forgotten what it was now… let’s just say we resolved it eventually after many tears and much working through of the problem).
But seeing Mum and Dad back at it again has made me realise how essential manners are in a marriage. If you disagree, even if you are feeling emotional, you can still be civil. If you can’t be civil to each other, what kind of a marriage are you living in? Surely you owe it to yourselves to have a code of conduct where you are always polite, whether you agree or not? If you can’t, you might as well be existing together as a pair of mismatched housemates rather than participating in a marriage… How else can you feel the love?
I reckon it’s too late for my parents to change their ways. But it’s highlighted to me just how important it is. So even if they won’t learn from it, I will.
Parental encounters of the worst kind
Posted on: 14/04/2011
You may recall me being mildly concerned about travelling with my Mum for three days. That turned out OK as it happens. Well, from my perspective, anyway. It could well be that I did all sorts of things that she was biting her tongue about for the best part of seventy-two hours.
I’ve been here all of thirty hours now, and I remember now what I had forgotten before.
My parents, well-intentioned though they are, bicker incessantly.
They are lovely to everyone else. They are understanding to everyone else. They are polite to each other in front of the children, but the moment the children go to bed, it’s as if they can’t be bothered to be nice to each other any more.
I now recall this was a major reason for wanting to go to boarding school. Such negativity is very draining. I am expecting to spend some time here while loved one is at home (shame, as they always behave much better when he’s around), so I am not sure how to handle it.
My initial instinct is to try and get them to understand one another. But, after forty-six years of such a behaviour pattern I don’t suppose they will change. So now do I tell them to zip it every time the bickering starts, or just ignore it and pretend I haven’t noticed?
There are other issues, which I wouldn’t want to go into on a public blog (that my Mum occasionally reads), but I do still feel that there is no need to bicker. I’m not sure about this one. Does every old married couple bicker like this? I don’t see it elsewhere (not that I necessarily would). Will I bicker with loved one just as badly one day? I really hope not.
While I’m typing, the bickering has started again. Maybe I should just go to bed for now.
Savour the flavour
Posted on: 03/04/2011
I have just had the pleasure of eating a truly delicious meal at the Hind’s Head in Bray.
Raw venison carpaccio? Exquisite. Pork belly with butternut squash, spinach and white pudding? Heavenly. Even the cheese was incredible.
What made it the perfect evening, though, was spending it with my most loved one.
We don’t get many opportunities to simply enjoy one another’s company, so on this anniversary celebration it was a rare and joyful treat to be able to relax in each other’s company.
Conversation invariably included discussions about the latest house we’d seen, but also the wonders of the universe, silly riddles and the latest development in loved one’s job.
Good food, good conversation, good company. A perfect evening.
I feel privileged. And loved.
braindribbles 