Sunday, November 4, 2007

Cinderella Sunday - Whinge, moan, grumble and complain

Sunday morning, early - most other people are still snoring, but not me, I’m listening to my washing machine proudly announce the programme I’ve chosen while loading the first of three washes. A brief interlude, of coffee and chat with The Artist before he leaves to spend the day painting for his December exhibition, and it’s back to the grindstone.
What feels like the rest of my day is spent in the kitchen cooking for the next few days, hanging out washing, bringing in washing, mopping the floor, dusting, organising news items in preparation for our usual Monday deadline rush, and oh joy, I still have a little free time to iron.
Am I complaining? Of course I am. Like anyone else I’d like to spend the day slothing over a Sunday paper before easing myself out of the armchair to sit down to Sunday lunch, followed by an even more slothful afternoon in front of the telly, sewing – whatever….
Still – I don’t have to walk three kilometres to get water, we eat every day … and there is free medical care available 24/7. So I shouldn’t complain, I know. I should find the positive side to this situation and change my mental chip. But I don’t want to – I want to have a 46-year-old paddy and throw myself on the floor and yell it’s not fair.
Not a good example to the kids I know.
And having got that off my chest – I must leave you and turn my attention to a hot drier which is giving the finishing touch to my still damp washing before I tackle the ironing. Do I know any men who spend their Sundays like this? And if not – am I stupid? Rhetorical questions – so no replies please.