when did i turn into holly housewife?

Posted on Posted in journal

I have spent the past two evenings washing my bedsheets (not because there's a huge quantity of unwashed bedsheets that have been quietly attempting to achieve sentience in a corner of my laundry, but because I have so little hanging space to my name I have to wash the few sheets I have in batches) and last night I even caught myself — you may want to sit down — ironing them.

Now there's a facet of my personality I wasn't aware existed.

I'm afraid (cover your ears eyes, children) I had to have a wee drink to cushion the blow of that revelation.

Next thing you know I'll be thinking activities like vacuumming regularly and dusting are worthwhile ways to spend my time, and I might even start thinking of cooking as a fun pastime AND IT'LL ALL END IN TEARS BEFORE BEDTIME. No, wait, that's not how that morality tale goes, is it? Oh, close enough.

This follows on from my electronic spring-cleaning spree last weekend, which saw me upgrade to Snow Leopard. I opted for the wipe and fresh install option, and am still finding bits and bobs I could have sworn I had backed up but, uh, apparently not. (Note to self: there's a reason why the upgrade option is easier.) Still, my hard-drive has been restored to zingy and error-free status, and it's all just decluttering, right? Right?

7 thoughts on “when did i turn into holly housewife?

  1. Wait, you iron sheets? Who the hell irons sheets????

    Why would you iron a sheet?

    This new facet of you confuses and frightens me. Can you go back to being a grammar pedant? πŸ™‚

  2. Normally I don't! I swear! And if I had an actual clothes line, instead of having to bunch them up over a clothes airer, I probably wouldn't have ironed them this time.

    But I have houseguests coming to stay, and for some reason I am appalled by the thought of giving them wrinkled sheets to sleep on.

    If it's any help, I finished up the evening by eating cheese on a biscuit and rapidly downing the rest of the Baileys I had left in the house. Which I think definitely qualifies as a nutritious meal.

  3. You two know me too well. Much as I can withstand and inflict filth on myself (and, er, you two…?) houseguests apparently warrant ironed bedsheets.

    (i feel so used…!)

  4. It was gruesome, and I'm still not recovered! From the experience of ironing them, but worse, from the thought that I did that voluntarily πŸ˜‰

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