I don’t object to doing a little house work. I can endure vacuuming and even toilet cleaning, which is just as well since there are three loos and a number of boys with bad aim in this house. But there are one or two jobs I just can’t stand - ironing for instance. I don’t do it. Since God created polyester I think it would be a sin to go looking for wrinkly linen to press. Dealing with rubbish bags is another pet hate. Oh, and changing the toilet roll. Okay, I know that’s more than a couple of jobs but this is a blog, not a Maths lesson.
|See this? It's EMPTY! It needs CHANGING!|
It baffles me how this household whips through 19/20ths of a toilet roll in a matter of minutes, only to leave a few sheets of paper languishing on the holder under the guise of being tissue that’s still on the roll. People are like: “See? It’s not empty. I don’t have to change it!” But I’m not fooled so easily, especially when I need more than two pieces of bog roll for myself, which is why it often falls to me to finish the dreaded deed. Fresh rolls and a rubbish bin are right by each loo. Where’s the rocket science in this?
And what’s the deal with changing the linen on a shared bed? It’s just not my scaly skin those dust mites are chowing down on you know. I thought duvets were meant to make things easier but for me it just gets a whole lot more confusing. Wrestling with something that resembles a colossal shopping bag usually results in me feeling cranky with tired arms. This isn’t helped when the dog decides to catapult herself onto the pillows and mess the whole thing up. No matter how much I spend on fancy quilts and comforters, it still looks like a pile of sacking.
I got clever yesterday and after changing the sheets, left it for Beloved to fill the duvet cover. This was a first so I warned him that it might be a little tricky, which must have appealed to his macho boys-can-do-anything side because, under my careful guidance, he essentially ended up doing a splendid job. He even plumped the pillows as instructed. I’ve decided that he can do bed detail on a more regular basis. Besides, he’s taller than me, which makes his arms longer, which means that he can shake that thing into place without actually getting swallowed up by it.
I don’t know why I struggle with this particular job. When I first got a duvet I was completely flummoxed. It took me nearly an hour to put that blasted cover on and it still didn’t look right. Ten years later I’d decided that the malfunction lay in poor design. It came to my attention that the duvet inner never quite fit the duvet outer and I decided to fix it and fix it good. Out came the scissors and the sewing machine. The thing was always too wide in the sides and too short in the length so it seemed like a straight forward assignment: hack off one side and attach it the bottom. It would have been fool proof…if only it had never needed doing in the first place. Okay...so...umm...I’d spent the previous ten years inserting the stupid inner sideways. So now I've drawn arrows all over my duvet inner to ensure that I can tell which end is where. Well of course it seems obvious NOW…anyone can have the wisdom of hindsight. Yeesh! Oh well, we live and learn…
|Looks I need to find some matching pillow slips!|
Oh, and thanks to my friend Mrs B for coming up with this innovative idea yesterday:
Turn your duvet cover inside-out and grab the bottom corners of the duvet with your hands on the matching corners inside the cover. Then just shake the whole thing and Voila! You duvet is covered!
I just wish she’d told me that on Monday…ten years ago.