In the Pink

Until very recently, there was no way that you would ever walk into my bathroom and find pink toilet paper there. In fact, I was incapable of acknowledging the colour pink pretty much all my life from the age of six onwards, right up until the moment I discovered Aerosmith, which was disgracefully late in my angsty teenage years. And even then, as far as I was concerned, it only existed in the song.

See, the thing with pink - and specifically pink toilet paper - is that it only fits in a very specific kind of bathroom. And that kind of bathroom fits only in a very specific kind of home. And lets just say that that kind of home is not my kind of home. I'm not the frilly-crochet-bogroll-cover kind of woman.

But when I think about it, pink toilet paper can serve no better purpose than wiping my arse...

Empty Nest

At the risk of sounding old and even sadder than we already know I am, I'm keeping that post title. Because, well, my nest is empty. And I'm feeling it.

I spent most of last month really looking forward to this month, knowing that I would have the place to myself, that I would be able to go out if I felt like it, wouldn't have to cook if I wasn't hungry, and would be able to flip through an entire newspaper without having to stop at intervals and a) wipe a little person's butt, b) put on yet another cartoon DVD for the little people's entertainment (and to avoid WWIII from breaking out in my living room) or c) beg and plead with a little person to keep their hands out of the toilet. I imagined myself carefree, participating in stimulating activities like chatting with friends over coffee or beer (preferably the latter), and feeling engaged and invested in my environment on a level other than "Dear god, please let this be over soon, and spare these small people the horror of watching their mother become the psycho-bitch-from-Hell again!"

All of these lovely things to look forward to! Because we decided last month that David would take his annual leave this month, and take the little people back to SA with him for the month, so that they could visit their doting grandparents and David could escape the kind of arsehole he deals with at work on a daily basis, before one of them drove him to something nearing his wife's mental instability. And I would stay at home, because I've practically just started at my new job and we need the money; the time alone would provide me with the break I've been needing, be a chance for me to break out of the box for a while...

And all I've been able to think of for the past four days is how there'll be no-one waiting for me when I get home.