School holidays are here, along with the rain. Yesterday, the kids were watching t.v, on the playstation while I was cleaning the house, in so much as it allows itself to be cleaned...it seems to drop items off bookshelves, return odd bits and pieces to place's whence recently 'cleaned' from. The house wets its floors and smears god-knows-what in weird places. The house likes to scruff it up a bit. I, on the other hand, am the cleaner. And it makes me mad. I put things in their right places, five minutes (give or take) the 'things' are back like I have never moved them. I wont mention the toilets. Okay...I will. Why is it that cleaning the toilet is like the green flag for everyone in the house to line up to take a dump in it? Try it at your house...go on. Clean the toilet beautifully and wait. Pretty soon you will have strangers banging on the door asking to use it.
Anyhow...I was cleaning up, a hopeless tedious sort of work, so I wasnt in the best of moods. I told the kids that they must clean their bedrooms before they spent anymore time in front of the t.v or computer, or playstation. They all turned sour. Like adding lemon to cream. It was a swift change. They did the passive aggressive thing, the outright angry thing and I was the cause of all of their unhappiness's. Paloma was fine. She played with the olive oil and discovered how to switch the tap so as to let the oil drip...drip...drip. (I discovered this about three hours after her discovery.)
The kids were so 'unpleasant', I tucked Paloma into her wee bed for her nap, grabbed my bag and left. All I heard as I was scarpering was a startled chourus of, "where are you going?"etc.
I went to the aptly named Salvation (our local cafe) and had a soy chai latte, read the paper and gathered myself.