Polly's Gone Automatic...

Looking around the house today I feel as though I've managed to get so much done over the past few weeks. The truth is that being organised is the biggest part of the job, the next part is chipping away at things slowly for a few minutes at a time. Fifteen minutes at a time actually...

On a good day I can move mountains, on a bad day I can move molehills. Whichever day it is, whether with the assistance of pain relief or not I find that putting a load of washing in when I first get up has to take priority over everything else bar letting the dog out. Once that's done, I'm on the right track and can move onto completing the other niceties like heading down to the bathroom, cleaning my teeth (during which time I swish & swipe with my homemade vinegar cleaner), brushing my hair, taking my tablets, getting dressed and of course making my first cup of tea for the day.

I don't recal just how long it's been since fate intervened and decided that Polly should buy a new washing machine but it's been a while now. I distinctly remember that DG & I went looking for one in the nearby town of Newbridge on afternoon. Heaven only knows quite why we decided to travel 27miles to select a washing machine, when we could have visited the local branch of the same store just 9miles away!

The 'new' washer is just that. It's a washer! This said, there are only three programmes I've yet to use; these are both of the economy settings because they take forever when a non-economy setting at the same temperature takes half an hour less (yes, I know!) and the sportshoe wash programme. I am one of those rare beasts that uses my washer to the absolute best of my ability...

DG's work jeans usually get boiled alive at 95C - it gets stubborn agricultural dirt out and makes them last longer. His shirts are allowed to cook at around 40C. His & the boys socks go in on a 60C programme and are pretty much the only items persistently tumble dried, life's too short to be hanging them out on the line! Most of my pretties (I can no longer refer to them as smalls) are delicate and are treated as such. I use the silk and the wool cycles interchangably depending on which I've got the most of, fabrics and synthetics I'm not sure of get the 30C treatment, despite the fact that I've got a synthetic cycle at 40C & one at 50C and by far my favourite setting is the 30' mini-cycle for lightly soiled things.

By far the best thing about this machine is the fact that it is indeed automatic. It's an energy saving appliance which fills from the top and is also water saving in nature. One thing I'm not crazy about is that I need a man to help me undo the cover when something like a plectrum or a penny get caught in the filter, I'm just not strong enough to open it. DG has suggested using a mole/vice grips but the opportunity has yet to arise!

By far the best feature of my all singing, all dancing machine is the fact that I've recently discovered that there is indeed a need for pre-setting a delayed start. Yep, this is what I've been doing over the past couple of days before going to bed at night. Why? Because I don't want to be the victim of my appliances bursting into flames while unattended. Drama queen? Perhaps, but I did once witness my friends dishwasher doing just that, luckily it was during the day while we were around and able to deal with it.

So why have I all of a sudden become paranoid about this? It's largely thanks to another friend nagging her Mum about the same thing, Flylady's essays on the subject and a new acquaintance of mine who just happens to be an insurance claims assessor/adjuster. As a result of all of the above my washing had been growing - again - to Mt Washmore proportions and my frustration with it. I read something about using the delay start on Flylady.net and obviously it struck a chord as now I'm ahead of myself at last.

And hey! Guess what? If it happens that it's going to be a pain filled bad day I don't end up feeling bad about not keeping up with the washing! I can go back to bed and wait for my pain relief to kick in in the secure knowledge that the house is in the process of looking after itself.

And that ladies & gentlemen is just perfect...

Sunday, Bloody Sunday!

In this post I am referring back to a comment posted by Jean regarding A Series of Unfortunate Events - Chapter 4:

"... I suspect though that it always goes much faster in the computer room than in the kitchen..."

You know, it is just like that. Time on the PC flies by, in the kitchen you wait patiently for the timer to ring and out in the craft studio it is very motivational!

I get my stamps cleaned up well in advance of the second hourly bell; and can leave the house to catch the school bell without any of the usual panic. That said, I've only tried it a couple of times but it does work. Maybe the kitchen timer IS the way to go; after all it is highly recommended by Fly Lady.

I have gone so far as to order one of Fly Lady's super duper timers, not only does this lady have a super effective marketing system; she also receives hundreds of testimonials regarding how good the Sidetracked Home Executives (SHE) system, is. After years of stumbling around in the dark; I do believe that finally there is light at the end of the tunnel for me and mine.

At times it is hard to believe that any one of us could possibly survive the myriad challenges of life. In our house I subscribed to the theory that:

1. I had to work full-time
2. I would never be able to afford to work part-time and this was my greatest fantasy
3. I was hard done by because I didn't see much of the children, let alone rear them
4. I didn't have time to do my housework properly
5. I was too tired to do my house and garden maintenance; except when on holidays
6. If I acquired a dishwasher all my troubles; great and small would be over

With the benefit of hindsight I am now able to realise each one of these myths for what they were; which of course is utter codswallop. In reverse order, let me expound each of these ludicrous beliefs:

1. I am now on my second dishwasher and the house was actually cleaner and tidier during the short time that I was bereft of said item
2. I am too tired to attend to my house and garden maintenance: except for the fact the occasional good day, and we now go away for holidays
3. I have a lot more time on my hands and I still don't have the time to do my housework properly
4. I sometimes see too much of my children these days, but I do get to play a large part in rearing them
5. I have little or no income, and I still can't afford to work part time but this is no longer a fantasy
6. I do not work full time, in fact I don't work much at all

I suppose it could be said that I am quite undomesticated; does this mean I'm feral? After years of living in hospital accommodation and digs I have to admit that managing a room containing up to eight or nine living areas has never been my strong point.

What with all this time on my hands, a brand spanking new vacuum cleaner and dishwasher, Tumble Drier Vent Cleaning Kit, Fly Lady digital kitchen timer et al; I am well on my way to changing the habits of a lifetime and therefore resuming another former fantasy. Being a Domestic Goddess doesn't entail time and energy consuming maniacal blitzes these days.

Fly Lady is gradually teaching me how to change this, become organized and even happier than I am now. Ultimately this is time management; something which I have always struggled with. Maybe, one day soon I will find myself sitting on top of a mountain of greeting cards, sorting through my orders and dispatching them post haste; all the while listening to the dulcet tones of cash registers expounding the seven domestic myths I once subscribed to.

Meanwhile, back in the real world the new dishwasher is plumbed in - by me, DG; my hero, has disassembled the washing machine, attached new hoses and re-installed it, the children are arguing about who is to empty the cat litter tray. A row ensues about who has left the trail of mud on my bedroom carpet.

Thank Goodness the annual Scouter's training course finished early. After twenty-four hours of practical and theoretical work, followed by a slap up meal, a few Guinness and a sing song with my mates; I just couldn't wait to come home to it all! Can you blame me...?

Cheers!

Polly Px

God Bless An Phoist

On a lighter note; I can see a white padded envelope to the left of the console, its colorful contents spilling out untidily over my desk. Finally my long awaited prize arrived, in the midst of yesterdays angst!

Mr Postie gingerly passed it to me; through the narrow crack between the door and its frame; hurriedly exchanging "Good Mornings" while I struggled to keep hold of Tilley Two's head between my knees. My poor aching arm wouldn't have held her for more than a moment. Excited as I would have been; to receive my prize from Craft Journal; TT was also eager to GO for poor Mr Postie! She had not been taunted by the ringing of the door bell; it doesn't appear to be working today, the silent delay had alerted me to MP's appearance at the front door.

I was excited about winning my prize. I had been enjoying the anticipation of its arrival,I had just about managed to control myself regarding my urge to bug MP about my parcels impending arrival.Unfortunately yesterdays excitement had been dulled somewhat by the ingestion of the pain killing cocktail!

I had even worried that it mightn't be delivered to my pseudonym. Luckily; MP is a genius. He has the patience of Job; which is essential considering that there are no post or zip codes where we live. There are, however, townland's.

The townland is a postal address which signifies the area in which one lives & it can cover a sizable distance. Often the neighbours opposite will live in another townland, while the neighbours half a mile down the road do not. Occasionally, the next door neighbours can be in another village altogether!

Believe it or not, there is only one house in the village of Geashill. While there are many houses surrounding this one house, not one of them has the same postal address! There appears to be neither rhyme or reason to the allocation of townland names and boundaries and yet MP always delivers on time.

To further complicate matters; MP has to deal with the usual problems of incomplete addresses, over embellished addresses, illegible script, incorrect titles, maiden names, double-barrelled names and in my case the occasional alias. Regardless of the many impediments, MP delivers the mail each and every day with a grin on his face and the occasional salutation.

My rescue dog, Tilley Two does not like men. Indeed, she really does not like men; she hates them. The two exceptions to this rule are my soul mate and partner DG; the second being the postie. It is probably understandable that she sensed the relationship with DG immediately; but could anyone possibly explain why the postie? And another thing, I don't mean MP; our regular miracle worker; it's Oighan, his stand-in.

The relief postie who learnt our crazy round in a week has made friends with my equally crazy dog! Now that does take some doing! Whoa! It does rather illustrate why I have great respect for the An Phoist; the Irish mail company. doesn't it?

So; three cheers for MP, Oighan & all their overworked and underpaid colleagues. Please God, don't replace the human factor with digital sorting machines; there is NO competition for the kindness of man.

SayreSmiles: A Tale of Two Titties

Once upon a time I had two friends, both of whom were diagnosed with breast cancer.

One of my friends had emergency surgery, radiotherapy & chemotherapy.Despite all the odds has been in remission & married her childhood sweetheart a couple of weeks back. Congratulations!!! The bad news is that unfortunately she is now awaiting a second mastectomy & reconstructive surgery; following the appearance of a new primary growth.

My other friend, the extravert who thought so little of flashing her titties from the back bedroom window at the Halloween Party all those years ago is dead. She was too embarassed to flash at her GP; it killed her.

Both women were 32 years old when they were diagnosed. Their tale has affected me far more than I can begin to say. My own health has suffered over the past few years; not with anything nasty, thank God, and these two ladies have unbeknown to themselves helped me get my life into perspective.

If I am not well; I shouldn't be pushing myself to work, while pushing my life and my loved ones away. Life is too short for that & it has taken something pretty drastic to make me see that there is more to life than a career.

Thank you to SayreSmiles for putting me back in touch with my two friends and thank you for a wonderful, thought provoking blog; see the link below:

SayreSmiles: A Tale of Two Titties

And yes, this post is little more than an elaboration of a comment I posted on the original page. By Golly, doesn't it make you think though?

Thoughtfully yours;

Polly Px

Good Morning, Good Morning!

Dear God, What on earth have I done to upset you today?

Welcome to the real word and the bemused rantings of the disparate housewife...

I dare say that from time to time most of us have uttered words to that effect; I most certainly have, as recently as this morning. DG was truly my knight in shining armour today, in so far as he took BB down to the village & the school bus. Such a small thing can have great impact on the life of Polly P, ie I get to doze for another few minutes under the luxuriously soft goose down quilt I got from Santa last Christmas.

Sometimes, however, such niceties unwittingly open the door to disaster. This morning, for instance, everything should have been going swimmingly well except we were running late; looking for the disappearing schoolbag. To make matters worse our lovely neighbours were in the process of moving cattle and had blocked the road for the duration.Thankfully Mrs MiF is one of the kindest of teachers and appeared to be quite forgiving of our situation, and LB did at least bring a healthy lunch to school!

Of course, were I a proper Mum this situation would simply not have occurred. The offending article would have been located the previous evening and packed accordingly; along with clean school uniform, underwear and shiny shoes. Unfortunately this is not the case in our house. Hopefully no-one noticed my nightgown; hanging beneath my inside-out cardigan, over my combats, or for that matter the fact that my dessert boots were trailing their laces behind me as I crossed the school yard...

Immediately upon my harried return I set about ransacking my own home; an act made necessary by the fact that I am no longer a domestic goddess, rather an exasperated wretch of a slob & layabout. Perhaps I exaggerate the extent of the disorganisation within the confines of my country cottage, but at times I do feel quite beyond despair.

Meanwhile; as a measure of my desperation urgent telephone calls were made to several unsuspecting innocents; firstly there was BJK - after all it's not unusual to be (loved by anyone...) down there of an evening, completing after school assignments [very posh phrase for homework] ,
next was the poor man at the Nissan dealership [my little black baby required serious fixing twice in the past week and is still on its hols there], then our lovely headmaster Mr HD; [who promised to check that the offending bag hadn't absconded to the classroom during the hols] and finally the poor beleaguered mother of LB's friend, [who wasn't in but got the OH to ring me back]. I'm out of breath after all that; phew, what a long sentence!

Needless to say there is a limit to anything, and soon I reached mine. Let's face it; two hours of ransacking the house over and over again is enough for anyone. It's well to tell that I am an amateur, as a professional burglar would have located said bag in less than three minutes; along with anything of value!

Anyway, feeling just a little crest fallen, at my failure to prepare my baby for school properly I decided that I should nourish my ailing body. LB had flatly refused to eat microwave porridge this morning, and so, in an effort to be frugal I reheated the sticky offering for myself.

Served up with a tablespoon of homemade strawberry syrup and a well deserved cuppa rosy lee (tea), all signs of self-reproval instantly vanished; it was delicious! Heartwarming & healt'y too, (around here we like to pronounce our T's wherever possible).

I then decided that I had a business to run and fought my way towards the computer at the end of the darkly strewn hallway. Having steadfastly ignored the rule that one should never take out more than one can comfortably put away in one hour; the house remains like a bombsite. Nevertheless, I was able to reach my destination with relative ease! Yeah, right...

With one flick of a switch I was transported to another world. The age of computer science really has changed the face of humanity; I had seventy four new e-mails awaiting delivery. Imagine the face of the poor postie, had he delivered as many snail mails, whatever about his legs straining under the sheer weight of it all!?

Bye y'all!

Polly Px Polly Peirce
http://www.freewebs.co/vincacards/index.htm