After a site crash and loss of data last week, some serious brain malfunctions (pouring coffee in a cupboard, stuffing all my stamps into an envelope and sealing it, forgetting crazy hair day … I could go on, but am starting to feel exceptionally inadequate) I had copious amounts of catch up to do.
Combine this with the next three nights taken up with stuff and … well, basically, the toilet has been neglected.
Not an issue in and of itself, and not something I’m particularly concerned about. Except we have guests tonight and on Sunday. The ONLY time the toilet gets a look in. Euww. And the image that conjured up. Perhaps I should rephrase and say “the only time the cleanliness of the toilet is considered”.
Really, cleaning it at the best of times is a futile and fruitless procedure, given the abilty of boys to lack aim. Or, perhaps, have perfect aim and no desire to actually wee in the toilet. Thankfully, it’s only two of them at the moment. Am doing best not to even entertain idea of toilet training the toddler until at leat Monkey Boy has moved out of home.
(Although, would prefer to spend money on shoes than nappies – oh, god the dilemma!!!!!)
(And have just had minor meltdown over shoes I haven’t bought because nappies were needed)
So distressing is this wee-ing and toilet thing, that I’ve even seriously contemplated swapping bedrooms with the kids so they can just messy up the ensuite (which is MUCH smaller, therefore less to be cleaned) and I then have a bath that I can claim all to myself, and I won’t feel so distressed about visitors using said bathroom.
Anyhoo, as it stands, we have people coming after school and I have an hour to tend to it. So I do … even though I’m unable to get my hands on some of those rubber gloves that vets use to shove their arms up cow’s vaginas and stuff.
All done, regret fact we don’t have one of those biochemical, hazardous waste spillage shower thingies and head off to school for pickup. All whilst strategising how I am going to motivate offspring to clean up the lounge room / dining table so we may, in fact, eat off it. Gotta love a table cloth; simply gather up the corners and sides, get a good grip, lift it off the table with the contents safely enclosed and stuff it in the laundry, dishwasher or other, suitable out of the way place.
Answer phone to guests, who informs us they are now not coming as daughter is sick and they don’t want us to get sick either.
Fairy nuff. And I appreciate the concern and sentiment.
But someone has to appreciate my gleaming, clean toilet. The kids will only wee on it!