You know you're truly, madly, deeply mired in domesticity when in spite of the fact that you have to meet a weekly deadline, grade and write reports on fifteen Honours theses in the next few weeks, and deliver a completed book manuscript by February 1, your update of the calendar features things like 'It's okay to pull up those poisoned weeds now', 'Car way overdue for service', 'Time to de-flea the cats again: make appointment to sell a kidney so you can afford to buy more of the de-worming and de-fleaing gunk', and 'Oh goodie, it's my turn to have the family for Christmas lunch: find sparkly red and green knives, forks and spoons, and get prescription for Valium.'
Posts
11 comments:
Wouldn't sherry be more fun than Valium?
If fun were the criterion, yes. But when it comes to Christmas with my father and sisters, the criterion is survival.
NB I enjoy their company, mostly. Really I do. But I enjoy their company one at a time.
But isn't being madly mired in domesticity delicious, somehow?
Ah yes. I wonder if Ernest Hemingway had these thing to worry about (no doubt he had a Muse to do the ironing).
But like Meredith hinted, he probably missed out on a lot of nice stuff ...
I have to say if it's a choice between being mired in domesticity and marking papers (of any sort much less honors theses) or meeting work deadlines then I suddenly discover a love for Xmas ornaments and lots of dust in the corners of the cutlery drawer.
In my opinion, marking papers of any description is a sure way to suddenly bring on an otherwise completely defunct sense of housewifery.
It's just like putting on some strange kind of filtering specacles which suddenly reveal those tiny weeny florets of broccoli which strangely appear in my kitchen drawers.
Cat - You should consider some other ways of resolving these "problems" -
1. Give all the students an A and write reports which congratulate the academic staff for their brilliance.
2. Instead of selling a kidney just yet (you may need to do this at some later point to buy yourself some oblivion in a bottle marked Shiraz) at least consider buying a book of natural remedies for animals which has some de-fleaing alternatives.
3. Ring your garage and throw yourself on their mercy, ask if they could possibly (please, please,please) pick up your car and deliver it back to you. (At the same time you may be able to coax them into pulling out the dead weeds while they are waiting for you to pay them).
4. Advise your family that there is a new fashion sweeping the world on how Christmas should be celebrated. Guests are only allowed to present themselves one at a time with each being given an appointment for arrival and departure times.
5. Ply your guests with either the Shiraz or Valium you have in stock and let them sort out whether the cutlery etc. is red, green or indifferent.
6. Grit your teeth as you have doubtless done so many times before and vow you'll never have Christmas again (until the next time).
Hope these have been helpful.
Sorry, forgot to append a name to my list of "helpful" suggestions.
Can you get me some valium too?
Why not?
Oh COME ON. Of course I would be careful and only take one at a time.
So what if I come from THE ADAMS FAMILY and my real name is THING.
So what if my favourite activity in the whole world, even better than Christmas with Gomez, is anaesthetic on an operating table just before you go under, just like taking 25 packs of valium in 10 seconds, doesn't mean I'm not to be trusted with a pack and a bottle of wine with MY MOTHER sitting next to ME when she goes on about the frackin next door neighbour's trees for 2 hours.
Oh, I so would not dissolve the pack in the bottle and drink the whole thing. How can you even say that?
Oh fiddlesticks. I can see I'm getting no where fast.
You have my address if you change your mind.
Post a Comment