Posts Tagged ‘MIA can opener’

You know when a visitor puts away the clean dishes and manages to put almost everything in completely the wrong place? And you spend months looking for the can opener because you don’t know where the hell it’s been put?

Well, my kitchen cupboards are always like that. It’s like nothing’s ever had a proper home and just gets shoved in wherever it fits best at the time. And no, I’m not quite willing to admit how long it’s been since I last saw my can opener, especially considering I’m the one who probably put it away. Let’s just say that it’s been a long long time since anyone attended a can opening in this house…

But surprisingly, it’s a completely different matter when it comes to the organisation of toys in boxes. Underneath that thin veneer of utter chaos, there is complete order. No, really: each and every toy has its place. And only I know where those places are. 

Now, most people might dread those playdates where the contents of every single toy box has been summarily emptied and kicked about a bit. But not I, no. Mess is mess is mess is mess. It’s the words “Let’s pack these toys away!” that I dread the most – whether it be from a helpful visiting parent, my husband, or the World Champion of Tidier-Uppers. Because, as I said, only I know where everything goes. 

“Oh, please don’t worry yourself,” I say. “Please.

But if they really insist on helping, of course I graciously smile and thank them, all the while driving my finger nails into the palm of my hand. And the minute they’ve left the room, I immediately set about putting their wrongs to right, muttering all the while under my breath. My little half-spoken rant usually goes something like this:

Now why would you put Duplo in with the Glow-in-the-Dark blocks? Duplo doesn’t glow! Does. Not. Glow. Uh, and that’s certainly not a Dolly Dress now, is it? It’s a Barbie Dress. You don’t need to be a genius to see that Baby Annabel ain’t ever going to fit in that little purple number… And – oh dear god – Lofty doesn’t go in the Cars Box. He goes in the Guys Box because he’s so clearly a guy and not just a vehicle! He’s got a face, people. A face! And, arrrggghh!… The same rule OBVIOUSLY applies to Bertie the Bus except, actually, he goes in with the Thomas Trains box. Even though he’s not actually a train. But OBVIOUSLY he’s still part of the Isle of Sodor’s extensive public transport system and … What the hell is Autobot Jazz doing in the Cars Box? What part of “Robot In Disguise” don’t you people understand? Sheesh! He needs to go in the Transformers & Bionicle Body Parts Box under the bed … and… OH. MY. SWEET. FUCK.  Who put the Star Wars Lego in the Little Lego Box – don’t they know how expensive that shit is and what a living nightmare an incomplete Lego Separatist Spider Droid can be… and… oh… DANG IT! DANG IT ALL TO HELL!

And I end up emptying everything back onto the floor so I can do the whole thing properly, which I do until I get interrupted by some child needing a drink and/or a bandaid or I just grow bored and wander off and the whole thing gets deserted mid-project. 

It’s really little wonder my house is such a tip.

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