Best surprise: Coming home and finding the sister-in-law (who is 63, not 53, but I never got back to fix that typo) has done nearly all of my ironing. Thinking, hmmm, maybe having international guests for two.whole.weeks isn’t so trying after all.
Best sound: Toss up between Son #2 burping the alphabet for his brothers’ edification, and Son #3 singing ‘Morning Has Broken’ at top speed. (Morninghasbrokenlikethefirstmoooorningblackbirdhasspokenlikethefirstbirdpraiseforthesingingpraisefortheetcetcetc …)
Best communication: A note, left on the kitchen bench for me. Dear Suse, would it be possible for you to do our washing today, as we are running out of clothes?
Best op shop find: A set of twelve no. 27 glass Fowlers Vacola preserving jars. I stopped in at FV headquarters at lunchtime the next day and purchased twelve rings and lids, and I am so going to be doing heaps of domestic housewifey bottling this summer.
Best dummy spit: Exhausted and feeling like a freaking domestic slave (see dot point three), overwhelmed with all there is to do while others sit around on holiday, reading books and watching me cook and do laundry, I opened the dishwasher to put the dirty mugs and cups in, (as in, inside, not next to), the door sprang shut on me, grazing my wrist, drawing blood and generally being the proverbial straw, camel, etc. I swore viciously, opened the dishwasher door, slammed it shut as hard as I could for good measure (cracking a glass and plate within), burst into tears and went and sulked childishly in my room. The only people to witness my meltdown were my poor traumatised children.
Best blogging effort: I am not participating in this NaBloPoMo thingie, but you may have noticed that I have actually posted every single day in November thus far. This is because blogging is what is keeping me sane right now. Thank you, internets.
Tomorrow, another recipe.
Watch this space.