Thursday, 30 July 2015

Nothing says 'I'm doing fine and my life is exactly as I planned' like three bowls' worth of oats coming out of your outside drain...

When I was younger, I had the deluded impression that by the time I was 25 I would have my life together and I would no longer be that one person that everyone used as an example of what not to do and how not to live. It turns out that my impression, as with most childhood impressions, was wrong. Nothing says 'I've got my life together' like running out of your house in a panic at 6am in your pajamas to put the bin out and then battling to find a good place by the side of the road after all the smug bastards that got their bins out on time took all the good spots. Likewise, nothing quite says 'I'm doing fine and my life is exactly as I planned' like three bowls' worth of oats coming out of your outside drain after being poured down the sink, creating an effect that makes it look like your drain has had a rough night out on the town and has now vomited all over the pavement. I mean, lets be honest, nothing really says, 'we're an upstanding part of the local community' like making all of the other kids in the village walk through your breakfast oats on their way to school, right?

On the bright side, despite my life not exactly turning out as planned, it at least has some consistency in that it is not just the outside of our house that fails to give off the impression that we've got it all together, the inside is also doing a fine job. Domestic duties have never really been my forte, but in my defense there's only so good you can be when your appliances are more of a hindrance than a help. Our hoover, for example, is so disastrously inept that it took me almost an hour last week just to hoover the living room. Imagine what it would be like to vacuum a room using a drinking straw and you would come close to something similar to the frustration I experienced. I spent most of the afternoon picking things up off the floor when the hoover missed them (which was almost every time), examining them, and then replacing them on the floor to give the hoover another chance instead of just accepting failure and placing the item in the bin. I'm not sure where this need to give the hoover another chance comes from, it's almost as though it's in our human nature to root for the underdog - resilience in the face adversity and all that. Not that it did me much good - eventually I ended up just picking them up and shoving them up the hoover until they disappeared. Obviously, by the time I had done this with all of the tiny bits of paper and twigs and other things that accumulate when you live with children, the hoover had been on for over an hour and was starting to overheat. I turned it off because I was slightly concerned that the spider Cat had hoovered up three weeks ago was still alive inside the hoover bag and was growing larger and larger, biding its time until the hoover inevitably exploded and he could rise from the dust and take his place as ruler of our house once again. Thankfully, the hoover never did actually explode, however it did refuse to turn on again (obviously its minimal effort and my bringing things to it had caused it to feel overworked) so I had to go creeping to my parents and ask if one of them would lend me their hoover. I did phrase it in such a way that gave my mum ample opportunity to reply with, "well, I'm never at home anyway so you may as well just have mine and keep it," but she didn't accept the bait so I just borrowed my dad's with the sinking feeling that a multi-pack of straws was going to have to last us until next Christmas when I can ask Santa for a new hoover, a new drain, and a the promise that by 30, I will have my life together. As it happens, my dad ended up telling me to just keep the hoover when it became apparent that he was either going to a) never get it back, or b) get it back in three years, broken, and filled with twigs.

Domestic traumas aside, I had an extremely distressing experience recently whereby I almost accidentally consumed a metric shit tonne (genuine measurement) of cocaine. Here's how it happened in a nutshell: my friends and I went out to a bar and got chatting to some people who were out for their friend's birthday. Birthday boy was too much of a wimp to do the birthday shot his friends had bought him, so being the tough rebel that I am, I volunteered myself to do it. Shortly after downing the entire mystery shot, one of the strange men I had just met and accepted a drink of unknown provenance from says to me, "Amy, do you do cocaine regularly?" to which I reply, "no, I've never done cocaine in my life. Why?" He looked sheepishly at the ground and went, "oh, it's just... there might have been a shit load of cocaine in that shot you just drank."

You know those moments in life where you just suddenly think, "oh shit, I have just accidentally consumed all of the cocaine in the world and now my eyeballs are probably going to start bleeding?" Suddenly oats spilling out of your house seem like a treat. As it happened, there turned out to be no cocaine in the drink, which I was extremely relieved about. I've never coped well with drugs - I once left the lid off the glue stick for too long and thought my house was a Hungarian Horntail, can you imagine what cocaine would do to me?


By the way, dad - I know that you're going to read this and then ring me and tell me off for accepting a drink from a strange man in a bar and almost accidentally doing cocaine, so I will fill in my part of the conversation now and save you a job:

You: *ranting down the phone about not accepting drinks from strangers*
Me:...
... I know...
...Yeah...
...Ok...
...I know...
...Yeah...
...I know...
...I don't know...
...I know...
...Ok...
...Ok...
...Yeah...
...Ok...
...Ok, bye...

1 comment:

Thinking outloud said...

This reminded me of the post about you taking a bath with your socks on >>> magic mushrooms!

So you have compassion for your old-broken hoover and are reluctant to put it out of its misery for good.

You still drink and have apparently turned to hard drugs.

You live with kids now?

I have missed so much, good to see you are still writing and alive for the time being! I've missed you. : )