I stayed at Mumsy’s house last night, which is always an adventure in itself. Last night I had music practice which is just around the corner from where I used to live with Sister Dear. Since Sister Dear decided to relocate to the beach, I have lost my place to crash and my guaranteed breakfast the next morning. Mumsy, who providentially lives just around the corner from Sister Dear’s old house, has offered me the use of her pull out sofa bed for whenever I have need.
Given how smashingly Mumsy and I get on, you would be surprised to find out that this arrangement, while handy, is rather lacking in certain desirable features.
The Pantry at Chattel de la Mumsy is a sad excuse for a celestial larder. Mumsy is convinced that she is lactose intolerant, and gluten intolerant which means her victual stores look a whole lot like some sick and twisted health food shop wherein people force feed you lentils, polenta and freaky things floating in purple coloured goop. After numerous raids into the depths of her freezer I finally returned with a packet of frozen veggies and some meat I hope came from a cow. Huzzah!
Secondly, Conversation isn’t exactly one of my strong points. I can Facebook chat with the best of them and MSN until the cows come home. However the bitter truth of the matter is that I prefer my own company and with the exception of a few people, I find it a tad onerous to carry on a fully fledged conversation for any length of time. Sister Dear and I had a fabulous arrangement. If we wanted to spend some quality time together, we would put on a movie and watch it together. We talked if we wanted to and when we didn’t want to, we didn’t. Mumsy does not understand this. In a bid to force us into conversation she sold the television so we have no choice but to sit there and exchange niceties about the weather. Gah
Thirdly, I am all for getting out of bed nice and early but Mumsy is taking early bird to a whole new level. I was camping out on her couch, blissfully unaware that anything existed outside of the land of sweet dreams and cotton candy. I was in that limbo, post sleep / pre wake place where you’re sort of aware of what’s going on but still semi sleeping, when into the living room shuffles Mumsy in her noisy slippers. I squidge open one eye and look at my watch. 4:30am?! I close my eye hoping Mumsy will see her sleeping daughter and, having pity on her, will shuffle right back into her room, shut the door and stay there until a more reasonable hour. No. The shuffling continues into the bathroom, followed by the sounds of showering.
By this time I have the blanket pulled up over my head and am trying to burrow my way into the couch. Devil Birds who live in a cage on the patio wake up and start squawking away. Mumsy emerges from the bathroom and shuffles into the kitchen where she turns on the noisiest kettle in the history of kitchen appliances. Cups rattle, every piece of cutlery is emptied onto the bench, tossed around the room and then one spoon is selected to clatter against the side of the mug a few times. The patio door is opened and Devil Birds are let out, the door closes and Mumsy shuffles back in. By this time I am wide awake and glaring at a spot on the ceiling waiting for Mumsy to come around the corner before I let lose the full force of my crippling gaze.
“Morning Sweetie”, she says all cheerily
“Did you sleep well?”
“Would you like some breakfast?”
At this point I sit up, hair looking like I’ve stabbed a paper clip into the power socket and pillow imprints all over my face and say rather forcefully, “It’s not even 5 o’clock in the morning! I should be sleeping! And for the love of God could you please shuffle softly!”
*Stunned Silence* From Mumsy
After this I flop back down onto the couch and pull the blankets up over my head. I peak out and see Mumsy trying her hardest to shuffle quietly back into her bedroom, tea in hand.
Last but not least we come to Little Brother. The greasy haired cretin inhabits the back bedroom. Seeing as Monday night was his Formal and after formal party, I suspect that the boy was suffering from something akin to a hangover. *Rubs hands together gleefully*
Mumsy shuffled into his bedroom at 6am and calls out all sweet like that the time has come for him to get out of bed. There is nothing but silence and boy smell coming from the depths of his bedroom. Since I had been awake since 4:30am and was in something of an unpleasant mood I took it upon myself to extract said person from his bed. Anyone who hasn’t tried getting a seventeen year old boy out of bed when he is inclined to sleep until noon has no idea of the epic effort that this was.
On a brighter note, I was walking across the car park toward the office this morning when I saw a Kookaburra sitting on a lamp post teaching its baby how to laugh. It kind of made my morning.