It’s been quite the week: from the highs of Kathleen Folbigg being granted an inquiry into her convictions … to the lows of the youngest’s scratch-covered body being examined at the dermatologist’s office … and all the blah in-between bits of having a bad back and nasty virus and the eldest catching it from me.
I managed to stay pretty cheerful and fairly functional until last night when the youngest had a massive allergic reaction to watching The Bachelor with me.
Well, her reaction wasn’t to the trashy TV program, but to the fur baby curled up at her feet.
It would seem that she’s now so allergic to the dog that she can’t be in the same room as him.
So I had a secret weep in the laundry, because if I was a good mother I’d get rid of the dog. But I love the dog and it’s really cruel that the universe is trying to take him away from me.
It didn’t help that when I spoke to my mum about how the youngest was faring – OK, but highly allergic to everything – she said: “Well, you’re going to have to get rid of those dogs.”
“Can we talk about that some other time,” I replied through tight lips.
I could do with a few hassle free moments in it. But nup, that doesn’t seem to be my destiny.
Instead, I’m trying to work out a way to cheaply rearrange the house so there’s a room I can watch TV with the youngest that’s quarantined from the dogs so she doesn’t puff up like a balloon and sneeze continuously during The Bachelor … or whatever dodgy romantic comedy we might decide to watch.
As an interim measure, there’s a non-functioning TV in her room that we could press into service, but I have no idea how to get a cable that will fit into the funny little outlet in the wall. So the TV has been sitting there for months as a dust-gathering ornament. I really need to get someone technical’s advice on that.
But I’ve been too busy hunting down chainsaws to remove the tree that died in the backyard and fell on the house.
The first chainsaw I borrowed carked it. Erm, better sort out some compensation.
Then my brother-in-law popped over yesterday to finish the job with his.
My sister messaged last night to say he’s got the lurgy now too. Ooops.
And now my yard is full of bits of dead tree that I need to find a way to remove. We’re talking about six months’ worth of green bins.
(The universe is welcome to take THAT away from me.)
Actually, the yard looks pretty disastrous all round, gawd knows when I’ll find time and money to sort that out.
Moan, moan, complain, complain.
But, really, come off it universe, ENOUGH!
Please tell me what’s getting on your goat so I can put my niggles into perspective.
Song of the day: “They can’t take that away from me”