“Have we got any washing machine liquid for colours?” asked Ro. “I thought so,” I said, getting up. “So did I,” he said. “I bought it in Waitrose the other week, their own brand” I added helpfully – always good to know what you’re looking for.
When we moved here, beyond the kitchen was a larder, boiler room and a downstairs bathroom for Hilda, my in-laws’ live-in maid (she’d started out as the Sage’s nursemaid and stayed). When my mother moved in next door, her four-poster bed didn’t fit in either of the bedrooms, so we demolished the boiler room and bathroom and built a new bedroom and, since the terms of planning permission included a link between the two dwellings, a small laundry room rather than just a corridor. My mother and I shared it and there is a drain in the floor in case of flooding (a few times bitten in the past).
So I trotted to the other end of the house behind Ro. He picked up a box of sachets. “You see, for whites. I’ll use them if necessary though,” he said. He followed my gaze towards the washing machine. On top was another box. “Oh. Ah. I owe you one. Anything I can do to make up for it?” “I’ll think about it. Maybe let you stew for a bit.” He apologised again. “Happens to us all, no problem.”
He followed me back into the drawing room, with him still talking about how one can not see something right under one’s nose, and went over to the fire. I stood up, having sat down at the computer, and went to shut the door. “Oops,” he said apologetically.
It’s all right. I don’t mind. He’s no trouble really.
Hmm. I don’t think it’s a question of you not minding. I think you love it. And who wouldn’t? It’s a perfect picture of maternal bliss.
Husbands! There all the same.
I have tagged you if you want to play
It is confusing, isn’t it lom? Ro isn’t z’s husband though. I believe he’s a Border Collie.
Yes, a son LOM (treat what Dave says with caution)- my husband has no idea how to work the washing machine.
Love it? Well, he’s useful when I need anything fixed on the computer.
Cute!
Living with a grown-up son is different from teenagers. We’re all so relaxed…
Maybe so, but I’m not fooled for a minute.
I think it’s his new Xbox 360… these games demand too much cognition. With all that attention, fast reaction times and visual acuity needed, surely it takes it’s toll on household tasks?
Perhaps if you disguised the washing up powder as a zombie character, or the washing machine as a portal to an alien realm, he’d go into gaming mode and clarity would return?
Well, it would make doing laundry more interesting at the very least.
Of course, you’ve met him, haven’t you Dand?
So, evidently, have you, Anon, since I haven’t mentioned the Xbox here. That gives me a choice of three people if I don’t include the family … have I the pleasure of welcoming one of his employers, or is this Zain? Excellent suggestion, anyway, which could usefully be extended beyond the laundry room.
Hello, Zain. Ro says “that’s 100% Zain.”
Meh, busted.
Smile.
Pfft. Yesterday, he had to admit I am Perfect. My work as a mother is done.