Today started in a sort of sleepy fug. I snapped out of this state of affairs quite quickly. He was standing at the bottom of the bed brandishing a full tea pot, (always a sight which pleases me), but also attempting to leap into his clothes at the same time. My awareness of recently steamed carpets for the house move immediately sharpened. Once I had been handed a steaming mug of tea I was treated to the dance of the underpants which looks remarkably like country dancing combined with sword dancing.
He then announced after inquiring after my health whether or not he should wear his best suit for a very important meeting which was to take place many miles away, indeed due to start in twenty minutes with a half an hour drive needed. He announced in tones that always worry me, that he would have to hurtle there. His hurtley days always alarm me as they unfold with various dramas and enhanced tantrums involving technology. His not mine I might add.
Once installed inside his suit, looking rather delightful in a crisp, granny smith apple green shirt and charcoal grey suit. Accompanied with shocking violet socks and shiny black shoes. His clapped his hands briskly, winked at me and told me he was ready. I knew the next stage would be the fox trot oscars of car key finding missions, which mean galloping up and down the stairs like some sort of wild untempered herd taking the steps two or three at a time. This to then be repeated with an exercise in finding lost folders, and a small black shoulder bag which is the bane of my life as it has a life of it's own and often appears several counties away in hastily departed from hotel rooms, with trails of wires hanging out.
When we go through customs at airports to and from holidays, our entire family is often put in a separate room due to the suspicious amounts of wiring, full size house telephones and strange equipment often in that very same bag. I have on occasions threatened to jump up and down on it to aid it's further demise.
My friend Hairy Legs became equally disenamoured with his last bag, a brown one which always appears for travel to far flung eastern countries, and at one stage contained a satnav which issued instructions bad enough to cause multiple nervous breakdowns, in a heat of 42 degrees and a car crammed with shrieking children and adults.
With all the usual early morning fuss finished and hot coffee in sight. He then announced most mournfully that he had got ready for the meeting one week early and it was in fact next Thursday. However he did offer me all my thryoid medication as a consolation prize and tell me he was very excited about the week-end. Despite our tenterhooks status regarding moving house and signing contracts, the show goes on. Our house once again this week-end will be full up of people and children, and various others who arrive with them, and a large birthday tea planned for my daughter. He will have to blow up 100 balloons as the grandchildren are coming and as far as I am concerned it is compulsory.
It is very sunny here, however I was not amused at the combination of sun cream versus a swarm of black winged insects that seemed heavily attracted to me.
I then caused my own hyperventilation by noticing I had two winning tickets from my new online lottery account. For years and years since it started I have announced with boring regularity my intentions towards any vast winnings I receive. I have droned on and on about it for literally years, having omitted to ever purchase any tickets whatsoever. I felt that the time was right to grow up and set up an account on line. I could barely contain myself as I awaited my two winning results, which turned out to be £3.00 for each win. However I shall take it as an omen that my luck has changed and that it is only a matter of time before I net the big one. I could then of course pay an army of people to move me from this house to another and sort the next one out.
As I sit and write this, I am also in charge of his laptop and mobile telephone, despite finding he had another two hours at home this morning to work, he actually ignored all outstanding jobs and instead got the sandpit ready for small people which involved full banishment of frogs in the area and installing and abundance of plastic diggers and then went into drastic and violent sweeping things up mode. He left shortly after leaving all things he needed behind. This is all very well, but I can barely understand his telephone and the reception is dire, so here I am answering his phone and then relaying messages via email to him on a computer which is next door to where he is actually supposed to be working.
Soon lots of very small people will arrive and I have to make sure that certain chocolate eggs are not hidden so well that I can't remember where exactly they are. A certain bottle of very lovely alcohol which I purchased abroad for my eldest son last summer has only recently appeared again along with a stash of red wine. All hidden to prevent overload at teenage parties. I recently came across him in the garage a glass in hand thinking he had found something which did not belong to us at all and really enjoying it, thinking that the fairies at the bottom of the garden had left him some red wine behind half used paint cans, rather than hers truly.
Have a fab Easter. MaryF