The kids are on their October break. The mister is on annual leave. Our house is still a disaster.
I am grateful, however, thanks to the generosity of friends, to have escaped to their lovely wee bolt hole on the coast for a few nights.
As soon as I finished work, we travelled 40 minutes to the site and unloaded the kids, the dogs, and our weary selves into their glorious caravan.
We rejoiced at the presence of ceilings, an intact bathroom with (Hallelujah!) a magnificent working shower.
Perfect for de-stressing
We settled into our long weekend with ease. Long dog walks, lazy lunches, reading actual non-work-related books, board games, Strictly, an 8.30 bed time for me after I drank two ciders.
We couldn’t have asked for nicer after a few stressful weeks.
The mister and I shared the chores, for example, he unpacked the shopping and put it away.
I then put it away again the ‘right’ way.
How to train a husband
Before we got married, himself didn’t even know there was a wrong way to put milk in the fridge.
Making the bed, he commented on how the bedroom throw pillows and curtains really brought the whole room together.
If you’re wondering how many years of marriage it takes to wear down a husband, it’s 18. 18 years.
He popped to the shop armed with a list, so I turned my phone off because I felt it was finally time to teach him some independence.
Walking in his shoes
While he was away, I stuck on his boots to take out some rubbish and ended up with an over whelming desire to BBQ something and couldn’t stop checking the weather app on my phone.
Our weekend was complete bliss and I’ve decided we should instigate a three-day weekend for ever more.
One day for running errands and catching up with chores.
One for socialising and the last for staying in bed, hiding under the duvet pretending the ‘to do’ list doesn’t exist.
Still, the shower thing…
The restorative, long showers sadly didn’t fix all our problems and we arrived home to find nothing had changed and no work had been done.
Within half an hour I had the kids repacked and back on the road heading for my aunt’s house.
The long-suffering mister usually complains I have about 25% of a conversation in my head before I decide to bring him into it – apparently, we can be driving along in silence, and I’ll just announce ‘and then we’ll pick up the kids and go straight there’…
At least this time he seemed to be on board and didn’t question the three-hour round trip.
Until recently, I hadn’t realised not everyone has an internal monologue.
Apparently, some people just have nonverbal thoughts.
There are seemingly people out there who don’t hear their own voice in their head throughout the day.
I am not one of these and we even narrate the dogs’ thoughts in this house, with different voices for each pup.
Talk too much? Me?
I’ve promised himself I’ll make more of an effort but the catch 220 is I evidently talk too much already.
There is a special place in heaven for my better half who patiently answers all my silly questions without getting angry.
With the kids happily ensconced, we returned home to start on the house.
The mammoth task begins
Carefully chosen tiles have been ripped up. Furniture moved to reduce risk of further damage. Favourite wall paper stripped.
We said Happy Fifth anniversary to the framed pictures still sitting on the spare room floor waiting to be hung up ‘when we get a minute’.
They’re still not hung.
Bags of old clothes, books, and toys are ready for the charity shop, just as soon as I’ve driven them around in my boot for three months.
Want to go on a date?
Halfway through loading the car, himself asked if I wanted to go on a date. Oh, how we laughed and laughed and set off to the tip again.
We. Are. Shattered. Is it the stress of the house? Covid? Running a business? Missing the kids? Climate change?
Just kidding, it’s all the things. We should go lie down or at least check ourselves into the Very Hungry Caterpillar Spa.
Itinerary? Eat your feelings for six days, then a salad cleanse, two week nap all before emerging both revived AND beautiful.