Housework, the bane of every womens life. Unless you are one of those neatnicks that define yourself by how clean your house is. I'm certainly not! Lord I could grow potatoes in the dust on top of the fridge, not that I'm proud of that by any means, there's just better and more interesting (and safer at my time of life) things to do than climb up a step ladder, take everything off (several trips up and down the ladder) dust, wipe and and put everything back.
So the other day whilst vacuuming and giving everything a lick and a promise a strange and foreign sensation overcame me. Usually the only vacuuming that gets done by me in the kids bedrooms is determined by how far the cord stretches into their rooms, which is around the doorway and the end of the bed.
My two are 27 and 25, adults in my book and their rooms and the bathroom they share are their domain and I'm not responsible for cleaning them. But something possessed me, some evil house cleaning imp took over my body and the next thing I knew I was making their beds. I know.....I know, it was scary. I'm glad she didn't stay round too long because I couldn't have coped with cleaning the oven too. So that evening whilst I was making dinner (another detested chore) this is the conversation I heard from the lounge room.
M: Mum made my bed today.
B: Oh my god! She made mine too.
B: How come?
B: Do you think she's sick?
B: But she never makes our beds.
M: Tell me about it.
B: Should we ask her why?
B: But if we say something she might do it again.
M: Doubt it.
B: She hasn't made our beds since we were 10. Somethings not right.
M: Maybe their getting divorced.
B: Don't be ridiculous, why would she make our beds if they were getting divorced.
So the moral of the story is: don't do strange and unexpected things in the house. It scares the kiddies!