1. My mobile phone has been playing up for a whole week now and I'm now forced to use a crappy old handset that quite frankly even Auntie Ivy would scoff at. My mobile phone provider (if this carries on much longer I shall name and shame them on this blog, hah, that'd teach 'em) are, quite frankly, useless and I wish them all (ridiculous logo included) to hell in a handcart. But not until they've sorted out my problem. Problem being, my oh so snazzy phone has decided not to text or call people on my command but randomly ring people and send them blank texts whenever it feels like it. This is, however, an improvement on the early part of the week when it wouldn't do anything other than sit there and look fashionable. Hence my reliance on an oh-so unfashionable handset (at least it works, David points out.) A bit much though when your phone decides to call random people at random times without you knowing it. Imagine my horror yesterday when I realised that, not only had my phone decided to ring my boss at work, but my conversation with Mac on exactly why men stand up to wee and women sit down is now embedded on her voicemail and will no doubt be played to all and sundry for a long while to come. My defunct phone is currently in the dresser drawer whilst my make-do handset sits solidly on the arm of my chair. I'm building up a good head of steam with which to bamboozle the call centre tomorrow.
2. Wind. Of the weather variety, I've yet to reach that stage. Yet. Overcome with a fit of housewifeliness this morning I lugged the washing out into the garden instead of draping it attractively over every radiator in the house, despite the ominous black clouds gathering over the horizon. I hung it out on the line and even enjoyed a bit of banter with Marjorie who was out there doing something with her hanging baskets. The last load in the machine, I happened to look out into the garden where I saw Mac's pyjamas fandangoing round the garden with my jeans and assorted items of undergarments. Picking them all up and wrenching the items of clothing that had managed to stay gripped to the washing line, I stomped back into the kitchen and threw the whole lot onto the floor. Half an hour later the "last load" was draped attractively over every radiator in the house and my last, last load was back in the washer. David arrived home from golf and said "good clothes drying weather this, why don't you put it all out on the line" and received an earbashing for his trouble.
3. Amelia will be arriving on Friday so that she's "nice and fresh" for her flight to Dublin on Monday. No further explanation needed as to why that's put me in a bad mood, surely.
4. At this "time of the month" I drop everything. Well, that's not strictly true. I drop things when I don't want to, or I drop expensive things, or things that make a mess when dropped. Take Friday afternoon. I was in Sainsbury's. Mac was being angelic (it helped that he was a bit tired after nursery) and was "reading" from my list. "We need sweets mummy" he said helpfully with a cheeky grin that so reminds me of David. I was busy looking at a very nice serving plate and so nodded absent mindedly. Thinking that the serving plate would look very nice on the dresser, I leant forward to put it in the trolley. Time of The Month law, however, meant that it slipped neatly from my grasp and crashed to the floor. At the checkout, I pulled my purse from my bag only to find that I had left my coin compartment open when Mac had his weekly ride on the Postman Pat ride and about six quid in change cascaded to the floor.
5. Saskia has talked me into attending her Ann Summers party next Saturday. I could have said no, I was building up to saying no but then she informed me that she'd already told the rest of the merry gang of "up for it women" that I was coming and they were all "really pleased because, as they said, you hardly ever go out these days". I resented a) the implication that I was boring and - worse - was being boring and b) that I was being dragged along to watch a group of drunken women get excited about bits of rubber. Saskia then put the tin hat on it by telling me she'd invited Marjorie "for a laugh". Charlie had the good sense to decline Saskia's invitation and said to me when she rang "do you remember the last time she had one of those parties?". David, however, thinks it's a fab idea, has agreed to babysit and has intimated that money is no object if I see something I like. I doubt that very much. His ardour was dampened somewhat when I reminded him that not only was he going to be alone with his mother on Saturday night, he had to tell her how I was spending my evening.
Thank you kind reader, I feel a bit better now. Still rageous but no longer growling. Bad mood aside, I'm very lucky. I have a nice, clean, sparkling house (filled with nice clean damp washing), three dogs snoozing happily in a heap outside the living room door (all upside down but that's okay, it's a sign of a happy and contented dog), friends that as Charlie said, love me "grumps and all", a gorgeous happy little boy who is lying on top of his duvet cover and singing what appears to be the Flintstones theme tune in his sleep and a husband that has just dropped a kiss on the top of my head and said "C'mon ratty-arse, time for bed".
It's not all bad really.