Wednesday, 26 March 2008

Why I Love Living at Home, Part 2

Yesterday morning I stroll downstairs to grab some breakfast before work and find my mum, at home because it's the school holidays, pottering about in the kitchen. Well, sweeping the floor to be exact. That kind of pottering. Doing mum things.... Dogs following her around waiting for their walk, you get the image. You probably know by now that I'm not a great conversationalist in the mornings - I've ranted about it enough - so if you have picked up on that, you'd think my mother, who has lived with me for the past 23 years, would have an inkling as well. Actually, it's probably more that if I have to do conversation, I like it to be straight forward, simple and gentle on the brain. Not loaded with accusatory emotional blackmail.

Me: Morning mum

Mum: Oh good morning

Me: What you doing here? Oh are you on holiday? Didn't realise. Hmmm.

Mum (sweeping the floor with big strokes): Well, if you can call it that.

Me: Uh?

Mum: WELL, (still sweeping, heading for the mop and bucket) it's not as if mothers ever get a holiday, is it?

Me: Arrrghhhh

Mum: What?

Me: Don't start.

Mum: Start what? (mopping now) Well would you call this a holiday?

Me: You know what, I've been up like 10 minutes. Do we have to get into this now?

Mum: Into what? I'm just saying. I've been up for the past two hours cleaning up after everybody else. Hardly what you'd call a holiday.

Me: Arrrghhhhhhhh. (I disappear upstairs shaking my head, leaving mother chuntering away to herself, the dogs and the mop)



I wanted to ask why on earth she was cleaning our kitchen floor before taking our muddy water-bound labradors for a walk, but decided that line of reasoning probably wouldn't work. Fuel to fire, I think the expression is.



Ladies and Gentlemen! Getting up early to mop the floor and then complaining about it - Our survey says.....

13 comments:

London-Lass said...

Thank your lucky stars. I wish I had someone at home mopping up my floors. Instead of me, muggins here. And, funnily enough, just like your ma, the last time I took time off work I actually spent a large part of it doing housework just to catch up on the stuff that gets neglected through leaving the house at 7.00am and not getting home til gone 7.00pm in the evening. *grumble, grumble, moan, moan*

Robbie said...

That'll teach you to say "morning."

Reluctant Blogger said...

haha I would fail The Real Mother Test I can see. I hardly ever mop the floor.

Boy said...

Tell your mum to stop her moaning! I love housework, so I would consider it a holiday.

Tell her she's welcome to do my dissertation in return.

Miss Understood said...

What's a mop?

surviving myself said...

i fucking hate people who try to talk to me in the morning.

not that you hate your mum..

Did you like how I used your slang for mom???

I'm pretty clever.

Bec said...

You managed whole words? Before coffee? That's... impressive.

I have a daily battle to not kill my whole family each and every morning.

nuttycow said...

But that's what mothers are for... making you feel guilty (as I assume that what your anger was covering up!)

The Ex said...

Oh mothers! They're such martyrs. Next thing you know she'll say something about how long she was in labor.

Dustybin said...

As a mother of a nearly 23 year old - you have MY sympathy!!! I don't give a flying fuck about housework, it gets done once a week - and i've always been like that. If my two wanted to go to the park when I was in the middle of 37 tonnes of ironing, I'd say bollocks to the ironing and get their coats on. Housework's for someone else to do when you're dead.

jo said...

haha! that sounds like my mom...

and i decided to pop by 'coz we kept posting under the same name in scarlett's blog haha!

Ladyshambles said...

My little sister lives at home still, which means I'm constantly dishing out advice on Mother damage limitation.

My advice goes largely ignored, which results in explosive arguments. Then I get my Mother on the phone ranting about my sister. Then I dish out advice on Sister damage limitation, which goes largely ignored, which results in... you get the picture. Ad fucking infinitum.

Throughout this, my Father can be found in the garage.

Please Don't Eat With Your Mouth Open said...

londonlass - Oh I'm not complaining about her mopping floors. I'm complaining about her complaining.

Robbie - Exxxxactly. See what being polite gets you? An earful, that's what.

reluctant - and you shall pay the price of DIRTY FLOORS! AHHHH!

Boy - Fancy a cleaning job? You are moving to london, after all.

Miss U - That's what I said!

Surviving - You are crossing cultures at an amazing rate.

Bec - Worst of all, I don't even like coffee. It's cornflakes or nothing in the morning.

nutty - spot on. How can I feel bad! I'm going to work! She's not! but I still do...

the ex - Oh blimey...is that what's next? Can't wait.

dustybin - All hail mothers who sack off the cleaning in favour of shopping or playing in a field...HURRAH!

jo - Haha, you're here to cause more confusion now eh? Welcome!

lady - Mother and Sister damage limitation. I like that idea. I am often known to dish out a bit myself.

 

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