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Channelling Martha Stewart… Minus The Jail Time.

Yesterday I was the Martha Stewart of housework. A fatter Martha Stewart minus the jail time. I made pasta from scratch and slow cooked a bolognese sauce. I vacuumed and did the dishes and made Arlen laugh a lot. If I wasn’t still rocking 10 extra KG’s I’d be what the chauvinists refer to as the ‘whole package’. 

Today I was the Homer Simpson of housework. A (slightly) thinner Homer Simpson minus the beer drinking. I got zero housework done. I managed to get out and do some grocery shopping but I couldn’t seem to manage looking for 2 things at once and ended up having to go up and down the same aisles repeatedly so it took frigging ages. Then I got to the car and was halfway through strapping Arlen in when I remembered I needed to get money out. So I got him and my wallet and walked back to the shops. Insufficient Funds, fuck. Phone still in the car. Walk back to the car, get phone, transfer money, go back to ATM, get money out.

Oh and did I mention that it is a windy day? And I was wearing a short floaty dress. The kind that hides the mum-tum but makes your legs look half decent. My dress blew up about a million times on those multiple trips through the carpark, and I had no free hands with which to save my dignity. So now half of Sydney have seen my arse, including the guy in the wheelchair who thinks that playing 90′s hits on a clock radio with a cap on the ground in front of him is busking. (Every time I see that guy I actually think he’s treating us to the ‘Contemporary Art’ version of busking and it’s awesome. Like he’s pushing the limits of busking and trying to make us ‘question what we know’ busking to be. Doesn’t mean I want him seeing my hoo ha though).

Now I am lying on our bed next to Arlen who is asleep (which is shit timing because now he won’t want to go to bed at 7) and thinking about how I should be starting dinner but the steak is still frozen, the bin is full, and the bench tops are covered in dirty dishes.

Aaaaand now look who’s awake and pulling my hair. Nah mate, don’t try and pin it on me, that’s all you.

I guess not everyday can be a winner. I’ll aim to channel Martha again tomorrow.

– Marisa