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Friday, 7 March 2014

This housework lark is not for men...is it?

My social media page proclaims that I am the co-owner and manager of a gardening business...my own enterprise that is, and of course the other co-owner should rightly be my wife, bless her. Well, with two satisfied customers under my belt, I have along way to go to move from rags to riches. So we survive on the reliance of my wife working at the local hospital and with me accepting temporary assignments from employment agencies while waiting for the gardening jobs to role in.



With my last temping assignment only lasting three days I am yet again thrown into the casting of being househubby while my wife works that extra few hours to keep our heads above the water. Now trying to be househubby, look for employment, market myself as a gardener, get the kids up, make beds, prepare breakfast, lunch and dinner then attempt the cleaning, laundry, ironing and keep our own garden neat, feed the dog, walk the dog, get the daily shopping...well what can I say other than its a bloody nightmare!

who invented this job


Because not only on top of this lot is the budget planning and bills to sort, household repairs...why is it that replacing a toilet seat is so frustrating when the fixing is rusted with urine...and then there is the car to maintain, talk a load of bull and gossip with the neighbours about other neighbours, have a nice cuppa with any who calls. Yep, if someone calls, that puts you right out of schedule doing the cleaning because you can guarantee one has just had a cuppa and then a family member or a close friend will call just to put you off your stride, and that means having to have another cuppa.

Your glad when they have gone because you are busting and have to rush to the loo and pee uncontrollably all over the new toilet seat thus ensuring that fixing will inevitably rust...again! Oh there are some easy days, when you can think well I dusted that yesterday...nope, not with the dreaded finger test. Or there are the days when you are smug with pleasure at having the laundry under control, a sunny day to hang it out on the sea breeze line, and for some bizarre reason enjoy the ironing...then you go upstairs to put it all away and, blow me naked, there's another lot! More laundry!

 "What the f#*k...who invented this job?!" It's never ending. 

Now I see why my wife seemingly moved like a tornado or a whirlwind. Where she might have been rushed off her feet I haven't even managed to get started yet. Mmmm, electrical plugs did she fix them?? Yep. Paint the bedroom?? Yep. Put up those coat hooks?? Yep. "And, I have done all the housework" she will say.


Flabbergasted, I never use to work this hard when I was in employment, leading others on a merry dance of work and pain. This housework lark is much harder than I imagined. For one all those chemicals at work would be under lock and key...health and safety you see.

And for all that equipment under the stairs...crikey one could trap their fingers in them. Steam iron...how come when I use it nothing but slimy chalk blows out from the iron...where's the steam...weren't taught this in Physics at school and certainly don't recall any Scouting badge in this work. Blimey camping was a luxury!

In doing the ironing trying to put the creases in the right place...well what can I say...but "Sorry dear wife there are few more dozen folds in your blouse...". It just seems that female clothing is much more harder to iron than men's. Yes it is!

a "Tracy Emin" style bed

 
One of the first jobs you are meant to do is make the beds. So if you don't get time cos you are having to be somewhere else or have gotten up late then making the beds is pushed down your list of jobs. Your bed then remains like this...is one meant to prioritise such tasks. Well I think that is the case, but look on the brighter side...some days I have a "Tracy Emin" style bed. I could get rich. Must be worth a few bob...maybe not!






 
Bed - Ms Emin style


 
 

Well you can't get rich from doing this and you do not get paid. The hours are long and one is on call every day and night. You get more critic than in employment. On the plus side is the genuine satisfaction of a job well-done, loads of tea breaks and that loving bunch of flowers at the end of the week...ha, ha...as if!
 

that English saying

 
From doing this housework I have gained a greater understanding of our language: "haven't got two pair of hands"; exactly sometimes you need three do these tasks. My dear wife must have had them.
Or, "I'll just stick a broom up my bum!"; that would be a great invention...can I have two of them please?!
 
So in essence I must give great credit and admiration to my wife. I have to admit defeat, this housework stuff is not as it seams. She does it so effortlessly. You are quite welcome to have this unpaid role back...just need to clean the broom of pooh!
 
Well its near the end of the day and I found out that to dye your daughter's whites is not a good idea...whoops! And having now retired to bed for a well earned rest I am sure I have forgotten something...ahhhhg...haven't put the bins out for the dustman, am I chasing the bin lorry, come back, come back! Whoa, that was a dream, thank goodness!
 
 


 
 
So to the next day, looking forward to total relaxation. You get up early before everyone else and the dawn, cos dawn is lazy old bitch...look into the "empty" laundry bin and think: "Bloody hell..".
 
This job is 24/7...noooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo!!!!