I Clean, Therefore I Am Knackered (Part One)

9 Nov

I had a busy Saturday.  This might sound like an ordinary statement with which to begin a blog, but busy Saturdays are not my normal thing.  Laying around thinking about doing the ironing is the usual extent of my Saturday activity but, having finished the painting in Tory Boy’s room, I had to put everything back.  Even so, I might not have bothered if it hadn’t been for catching Spud donning an oxygen mask for the climb from his door to his bed.  The boy doesn’t help himself: yes, I had thrown in everything from his brother’s room, including a full dustbin which TB had neglected to empty before heading off to uni six weeks ago, but Spud added to the mess by unpacking when he came back from his visit to TB.  By ‘unpacking’ I mean ‘unzipping the case and throwing the contents onto a pile that reaches dangerously close to the light bulb so we dare not switch it on.’

I thought it best to give Saturday over to returning TB’s stuff to his room.  It took me seven hours and the only help I needed from the Hub was the injection of a rawl plug which I had accidentally pulled out when taking down the shelves.  I put the shelves back up; ditto the curtain rail; wall-mounted a plug extension (TB is a mucky pup and all sockets have to be above slob level for fire safety) and a lamp; and alphabetized his many thousands of books.  Not bad for a woman who can never find the mute button on the remote.  The Hub is starting to worry that I might be able to manage without him after all (i.e. dump him for a pretty boy with no tool skills).  He doesn’t know it, but he is quite safe – I still can’t cook anything harder than beans on toast without my human panic button by my side.  To be strictly accurate, I’m the human panic button and he’s the off switch: a firm shake of the neck and a stern talking-to and I remember that I like burned sausages, after all.  Well, not so much like, as have gotten used to over the years; but it amounts to the same thing – carcinogens and chips for tea, with a dose of hysteria for flavour.

TB’s room now looks wonderful, and I hope he likes it enough to visit us at least once this academic year.  He phoned on Friday to say that he might visit because his mates had bailed from taking part in the fifteen-hour NUS-planned bar crawl (tabloid photograph, anyone?).  I’m slightly relieved because I would be so ashamed to find a picture of my son urinating on a cenotaph that I would have to kill him or put him up for adoption, and possibly both.  It will never happen, of course because, crazy cook and her slapaday man notwithstanding, we have brought him up better than that.

Saturday came, but no Tory Boy.  He had said he would phone if he was coming; he didn’t.  We are so used to him surprising us, however, that we all expected him anyway.  Spud got back from the match and asked if his brother had arrived.  He didn’t believe our ‘no’ and scoured the house for him (TB likes to jump out from cupboards; frightening us all into heart attacks is his favourite way of showing his love).  No TB to be seen (there are times when that sentence is a relief, don’t you think?).  We thought he must have gone on the bar crawl after all, and scoured the Sunday papers for pictures of him with his knickers around his ankles, but there was nary a one.  I posted a message on Facebook that I was sad that my son had not come home, and he phoned thirty minutes later to tell us that he had not, in fact, been boozing, but had knuckled down to thinking about starting one of his three 2,500-word essays that are due in a couple of weeks.   He has promised to visit in two weeks’ time, and mother was very happy with that, because it means she can go into his room every day for the next fortnight and enjoy the neatness while it lasts.



More tomorrow, when I will share my recovery strategy.

One Response to “I Clean, Therefore I Am Knackered (Part One)”

  1. Musings November 10, 2009 at 08:24 #

    Gee, this reminds me of my son when he was a teenager. No matter what I did I couldn’t get him to keep his room clean and organized. Now that he’s on his own, he’s much better or maybe it’s only when we come to visit or maybe it’s his girlfriend.


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