So I was washing my highlighted hair with L’Oreal Profressional Magnesium Silver shampoo; a really deep midnight blue mixture which stains the minute it touches anything other than blonde hair – on which it cleverly counteracts any yellow tendencies which can creep up on highlighted hair.
The white shower curtain is flecked with mauve suds as I hum ABBA’s Dancing Queen yet have no idea when I shall next be bopping. As I rinse me, the curtain and the tiles quickly from the offending, but highly effective, what in essence is a blue rinse, I notice Man of the Woods’ white shirt in a heap on the floor.
His clothes never make the laundry basket – just a vague notion of the bathroom in passing and occasionally, like now, the bathroom floor (which is better than the landing so we won’t moan).
Stepping out over the shirt, and delighting at my reflection in the mirror at the face-lift effect that twisting a large towel on top of my head creates, my periphery vision catches purple splodges on said shirt. Must rinse that.
After a gruelling yoga for beginners class this morning (because I’ve forgotten everything and need to start again with my down-dogs) we are going out to lunch. In a pub. Excellent. The joys of post-harvest; I don’t have to wait for my husband to leave the office at 6pm – he’s right here, under my feet!
From somewhere a voice calls;
MoW: “Have you seen my white shirt?”
Me: “No? Must be in the wash! Why not wear the blue one?”
MoW: “Can do, but I really like the white one.” I hear him shuffle off down the landing.
Twenty minutes later…. entering the kitchen.
MoW: “What are you doing?”
Me: “Just thought I’d wash the bedding – great weather for drying and the sun is great for whites!” armfuls of duvet cover and sheet are forced into the washing machine, expertly hiding a garment.
MoW: “You never do housework – and you decide to do some just as we go out?”
Me: “Yes well ..” I stand up and grin “I’ve heard there’s an award going round. For best wife!”
<a href=”https://dailypost.wordpress.com/photo-challenges/place/”>Place in the World</a>
At home, listening to the birds in the trees, the rumble and clatter of farm machinery, the voices of the workers swearing while they weld a piece that broke because someone else didn’t think carefully!
I jest but, here, in my garden. A coffee, a book, a nibble or two and I’m happy as a pig in clean straw… 🌸
Have you missed me? I’ve been cleaning the grout between the bathroom tiles. I knew I’d find a use for that buzzy toothbrush; the one I could never decide whether to hold flat against the surface of each tooth as it vibrated, or whether to move it back and forth, negating the need for the spin. However, place a little bleach on the head and work the buzzy brush into the grout and you’ve got yourself a seriously effective tool. I think it could become a thing!
Some unwritten rule floats around my head the day before any weekend, that the house needs to be prepared for returning family members. This rule I usually stamp on quite happily, but this morning my energy levels were such that I reacted to it. I proceeded to even use the hoover that had been waiting patiently in the living room where I placed it last week after a vague plan wafted briefly around my mind.
When did you last investigate between the cushions on the sofa to enable the sucky hoover tube to be fed? (Go look now if you’re home, I dare you! Everyone will wonder what the hell you’re up to!). By lunch time, the whole ground floor had been hoovered (or vacuumed if you prefer the correct term), the kitchen was spotless, dishwasher had somehow completed two loads and now sits empty with the inner door’s stainless steel sparkling. Even the kitchen window got the water+vinegar followed by newspaper drying treatment and the results are really quite stunning. I should try this more often.
It was as I gathered the week’s worth of Daily Telegraphs scattered across one half of the kitchen table, that I came across a supplement from last weekend which grabbed my attention. No way! WTF? Are you having a laugh? I think I already shared with you my decision for Lucy’s vineyard to need to exist nearer to Milan than my previous pictured area of Tuscany. A few days back I researched maps around the Lombardy region and learnt about town names and the river Po flowing east into the Adriatic. So imagine my pleasant surprise to find this article … housework could wait a few minutes I decided, and I popped a purple L’OR capsule in the Nespresso machine!
Actually I had to wash the windows by the way, because last evening while relaxing in front of a surprisingly worth-a-watch film which the kids picked up last summer, then left in the cellophane, we snapped our heads towards the kitchen in response to what must be a bomb. In actual fact, a hen pheasant had misjudged the windows at either end of the kitchen to be a superb tunnel through which to fly (and this was before I’d cleaned them remember). BABY DRIVER (2017, John Hamm, Jamie Foxx, Ansel Elgort and Lily James). Slight mess. We’ll put her breasts in the pot later, god rest her soul.
I can’t stop reading Joseph’s suggested book. I’m nearly to page 100. I think I’m turning Japanese, I really think so. I mean, has Matsu done the same self-esteem course for goodness-saké? He appears to know all about everything. He (Matsu, the life-long housekeeper of Stephen-san‘s family’s summer house, for those who don’t know Gail Tsukiyama’s THE SAMURAI’S GARDEN) has taken Stephen to a shrine up in the woods on the side of the mountain, at which they should relax and leave any frantic thoughts of their day behind. Stephen is full of angst having recently found out his father has been having an affair for the last twelve years. Twenty year old Stephen is confused about how he feels now he is in possession of this news; confused, betrayed, hurt, alone yet protective of his mother.
They start a conversation and Stephen become angry and shouts at Matsu …
“It is the anger speaking, not the man.” Oh my word. I think I’m falling for Matsu and all he stands for.
As I read, I learn how sentence structure works for Gail. I see how her choice of vocabulary builds not only a picture, but the straightforward tone of her ‘voice’ lulls me daily, soothing and calmly educating me. I am totally seduced by this novel and will most definitely buy another of her six published titles.
Now go away, I’ve a tidy room to go sit in and admire! Jokes, I don’t want to go really – lets hang out some more over the weekend, yes? x
PS. Where can I get a bonsai tree?