Household Tips #1

What to do when you have a tube of lipstick stuck in your hoover.

Right inside it. Inside the bit you can’t get at even when you remove the hose.

The bit where all the crap gets vacuumed up making its way to the collection point. But not the hose itself.

Hose itself is easy. Drop something heavyish into the hose and give it a good shake. Or stuff a wire curtain holder down its length. Always keep one handy, me.

But not the hose. The other bit leading from where the hose joins the body into all the invisble bits where the fairy dust suckers live. The bit with nine million screws holding it together. Know that bit?

The bit where your thirteen year old daughter in her laziness  wisdom decided to just go for it and sucked everything up. Keep the auld dear happy.

Not.

After figuring something wasn’t working, when I would have been better on my hands and knees with a straw between my teeth, I investigated and saw the culprit. Lovely shade of pale pink lippy. Could see the end label but couldn’t catch the bugger.

Caught my daughter though. She wasn’t much help. Except to bring me all sorts of bits and pieces from around the house to attempt its extraction.

Pliers – grip kept slipping. Toffee hammer – don’t ask. Plastic ladle – it has a long handle. It was a long shot. But it didn’t work.

Guess what did? A paper scraper. I think that’s what it’s known as in the trade. Mibbe not. Looks a bit like a palette knife. I’ve been known to use one to scrape wall paper and plaster small holes. Not brilliantly, I have to admit. But sometimes when you’re waiting for a man to get round to that wee five minute job you’re better making an arse of it first so he can show you how it should be done.

Not that I deliberately make an arse of things. Just turns out that way sometimes. I know my limitations but it doesn’t stop me having a go. Once built a set of wardrobes from scratch as a twenty-something. Apparently six-inch nails into plaster isn’t a great idea. I hadn’t heard of rawl plugs and drills at that point. Nor spirit levels. But the design of the wardrobes was fab. They stood for years. I never did get round to putting doors on them. Which was actually quite handy. I could choose my outfit for the day while lying in bed. So could my sister. Lay there across the room from each other discussing whose clothes we’d wear that day. Saves loads of time.

Anyway, about that lipstick. Fingers into orifice. Hoover’s. Not daughter’s. Grab with fingers of one hand wedged in the opening (this is beginning to sound obscene), edge the paper scraper in. Lever. Voila!

No one gets near my hoover again.

Wait a minute, I might have been had here.

Pegging Out With Pole Tig – ‘sad’ acts apply within

Glad,

A wee bit sad,

Little things that make this housewife cheer,

Washing on the line

Because the weather’s fine,

Might be sad but grinning ear to ear. 🙂

Knickers in the breeze,

Drying day to please,

Simple pleasures really are my thing,

Another load is on,

Some sunshine, can’t go wrong,

Writing silly ditties in between.

Sun just rocks my socks,

Getting my rocks off,

Washing, scrubbing, sad act that I am,

Fluttering in the air,

Like laundry hung out there,

Playing housewife just because I can.

Very simply true,

‘Tween you ‘n’ me, we two,

Teaching keeps me busy all term time, so

When holidays roll round,

Or on weekends, I’ll be found,

Doing what all other housewives do.

Catching up on chores,

Risking kids be bored

By thankless tasks that make their eyeballs roll,

Think that I’m a fool?

Well, here’s the golden rule,

Bribe them, sugar spoonful, that’s the goal.

They’ll thank me come the day

They learned how to play

Working in the sunshine, way cool gig,

For in between each bout

We’re running all about

Learning garden games; they love ‘Pole Tig’.

So yeah, chores can be some fun

And when the chores are done

Mary Poppins’ bag holds every trick

A charm or two inside,

Stretch it open wide,

Imagination, smiles that make kids tick.

No lament from me,

‘Cause I have got the key,

Brighter days are here along with Spring,

Pegging out the days,

Working while we play,

Mummy’s home from school. I guess part-time. :/

 

Ink And Scrub

I’m working

while I’m writing

while I’m cleaning

while I’m thinking

while I’m musing

porcelain,

gloves on hands,

meditating mental

while manual ablutions,

pen and cleaners

right brain, left brain

back and forth,

dibble, dabble,

ink and scrub,

Ain’t multitasking grand!

 

Shenanigans With Chores

 ‘I walked him last,

It’s your turn now!’

‘I dusted and I hoovered!’

‘Stop hiding in your bedroom.

I know all these manoeuvres.’

 

You have a chore, just do it,

Or do you like my voice,

Nagging at you, picking faults,

Like, ‘Clean up all you toys.’

Or, ‘Why is there a banana skin

Lying on your floor?

‘There’s mould in that there tea cup,

Sat behind your door.’

 

A sigh escapes their pursed up lips,

Tiny hands on narrow hips.

‘We forgot. We’ll do it now.’

Then thinks. I see the cogs

Turning swiftly, pistons up and down,

Like lily jumping frogs.

‘Could we finish this game first?

We have to save our place,

We’ve almost captured all the zombies.

Don’t want to restart the race.’

 

I sigh too. Well, childhood’s fast

And gone in too short time.

‘Well, get that zombie if you can.

Five minutes more is fine.

But, after that, pick up your room,

Grab a duster and a broom,

For my broomstick has quite an itch,

You know me, I’m quite a witch.

Five minutes more, or maybe ten,

Then I’ll fly up here once again

And use my magic on your butts

And on your pairs of feet.

You’ll hop and skip till all is done.

And then we’ll have a treat….

A trip to town,

Or to the park.

We’ll have some fun,

You know, a lark.

Some outdoor time

When chores are done…..

What’s that you say?

Your game can wait?

You’ll pick up now,

It’s getting late?’

 

‘Let’s get done, Mum,

Don’t delay.

There’s work first, then

We get to play.’

 

Still standing there, with mouth agape,

I barely see them zoom,

Hither, thither, seconds later,

The tidiest of rooms.

 

‘Well, come on, Mum, our hands are full

With rubbish and a cup.

Have you done yours yet?

We’re all ready.’

Well, blow me down

And, f***!

 

A tiny bribe,

A trip outside,

Mummy’s company.

A little glow

Begins to grow.

I’ll make pizza for our tea.

 

Well, it’s the little things that mean so much,

Tiny hands in mine,

Skipping through some pleasant days.

And the house? Ach, it’s just fine.