Welcome to summer
It’s officially the first day of the season; the environmentally unsound mercury has been over the ton for most of the day, cable TV vendor Foxtel is in meltdown - with only the cricket game available out of the 48 channels we pay for, and to top it all off there’s the world’s biggest blowfly (or maybe smallest helicopter) buzzing around the computer, secure in the knowledge that it won’t be sprayed that close to expensive hardware.
Stopped by the shop on the way home from work to get some wrapping paper and a birthday card for Grouchman, who turns 20 years old on Sunday. Others who’ve been through the same exercise know how difficult it is to find a card that manages to say ‘clean up your room before I kill you’ in some non-agressive, non-violent way whilst simultaneously providing some sort of birthday greeting.
I prepared for today’s shopping futility by spending a lot of the week’s reading time revisiting Erma Bombeck. How I miss that woman! But her words never spoke truer. “Stretch marks over 90% of [her] body”, and she cant’ get a smile out of her teenagers. I guess they’re all adults now - I wonder how they feel about what their mother wrote about their behaviour?
Now when I get around to writing the chronical of daily domestic life here and get to Grouchman, boy - is that going to be a story mothers will relate to!
