Wot a lot I got

A little while ago we had some friends around.

As I’m the worst hostess ever, and have managed to get comfortably into middle age without ever actually cooking a meal, any fare served is either a take away or a smorgasbord of snacks.

In my defence, I make a great snack platter. And a decent sandwich.

As we generally have well bred friends…. Except for that one, now that I think about it…. They bought a little gift.

(It’s possible our friends bring something to sustain them in case there is nothing on offer).

But! These friends bought a bag of popcorn and a big box of smarties. What a delight of a gift.

It gets better…

Because… they said. ‘Put them together in a bowl and then every now and again there’s a smartie in the mix as you snack’.

How did I not know this? It’s as good as frozen strawberries in your wine instead of ice.

Life is a treasure for sure. It’s become a favourite.

It all counts

We have four little fur babies that share our lives. We also feed the birds in the neighborhood. All of them I suspect. Who are ravenous. And two little mice, who come and go and at present are gone, possibly deceased.

The two cats, interestingly enough, are far less fussy eaters than the two little dogs. When it comes to little dogs, it is important to note that if you spoil them with all kinds of delicacies when they are pups, you are screwed forever and have no hope of changing the diet back to anything easy or reasonably priced.

I am in charge of the morning cuppa in our household and this involves feeding the ravenous cats. Lie ins are not permitted ever, they barely make it through the night from dinner to 5am feed. We have a very vocal Ginger, who screams in my face by 05h10. No need for an alarm.

My lovely man feeds the pups a bit later, who do enjoy a lie in, as long as there is a wee snack given to them as we enjoy a cuppa and a choccie bic. (This is not their snack, panic not).

My lovely man reports back as to how the breakfast he serves the pups is received. He is delighted if it is scoffed down and distressed if not. A discussion as to how we can tempt these fat, ungrateful and completely indulged creatures ensues.

I suspect, I suggested, the ratio of pellets to the other goodies, is too high.

How many pellets must I give them then, he asked unexpectedly. Twelve each I randomly suggested, in a panic.

Then, we were thrown a curved ball as the vet suggested we soften the pellets to help with aging teeth.

So, one of my 5am duties is soaking the pellets in advance of the feed in hot water.

Immediately, I received feedback… And criticism.

You are obviously not counting the pellets, I was advised, there were 13 and 15 in the bowl respectively this morning. And there was disdain and dissent at breakfast as a result. Will you count them please? We decided on twelve.

As it turns out, one cannot make and then break the rules here.

Is that the complaints department?

My lovely man is prone to nightmares. I know, it’s awful, the poor bugger. Everyone in his dreams seems determined to beat him up.

It’s quite traumatic and involves a great deal of soothing and cuddles after a session of screaming and thrashing around. And that’s just for the pups on the bed.

We’ve got some help, so it’s much improved, but the occasional burst of terror sometimes means he throws himself off the bed.

So, to keep him safe, I ordered, (Takealot of course, is there anything you can’t get from them? I think not), a bed rail.

So, now he’s caged in on one side and is limited to throwing himself on top of me.

(Not sure I’ve properly thought this through).

He’s got quite adept at raising and lowering the rail, but before he does that, he follows his little ritual of sitting on the side of the bed and faffing with whatever we faff with before we turn in.

Darling, he says out of the blue, you need to get hold of these people about a potential design flaw of this contraption of mine.

Oh, I said, what’s that?

I’m in severe peril of clamping my ballsack everyday if I’m not careful, he shared.

This is not a survival tip

My lovely man… Bless him… gave me a little squeeze today.

Thank you darling, I said, love you, be careful to not squash the boobies. (This is never welcome just by the by, unless it’s your thing… In which case, you do you).

Oh, he said, sorry, I thought they were higher up.

Keep your kit on for pity’s sake

I’ve lost 10kg.

I know! Marvelous hey?

But, no applause required, because I purchased myself some will power.

What a cheater.

Sadly, at my age and years of a determined sedentary lifestyle, losing weight does not automatically translate into a firm, twenty year old bod.

So, that’s this year’s resolution. Again.

Anyhoo, I’m delighted with myself and DNC.

We had visitors, whom we haven’t seen for a while.

So, we spent some time at the pool. Sun, wine, water, good friends. A delight.

You know, in swimming costumes.

At one point, I hauled myself out of the pool. I DNC as a reminder.

My VERY good friend observed me and piped up…

“You looked amazing yesterday, you really have done well”

“Do you mean yesterday, when I had clothes on?” I clarified.

Fed up to my back teeth

I have entered that phase of my life, sadly, where a whole lot of work on my teeth is happening.

The Springboks endure their mouth guards for however long a rugby game lasts… Mine are a permanent fixture.

On the positive, I’m eating less, because it’s actually just a pain to eat. At the end of this ordeal, I expect to be a perfect set of gnashers, in a skull.

I have become quite creative about keeping everything now housed in my mouth clean, and have ventured into the world of, not just steradent, but dental tablets. Useful when you have to rinse and brush 15 times a day.

When my online order of dental tablets arrived, (I am not one to darken the door of an actual shop), they arrived with a bag of ‘mouth tapes’.

What have we here I pondered.

Well, for the ignorant, as I was, a mouth tape is something you wear over your mouth at night to ensure that you breath through your nose while you sleep.

All kinds of wondrous benefits to this apparently… Stops snoring, helps you avoid ‘dry mouth’.

So I slapped one over my mouth and went to bed.

Unfortunately, before explaining to my lovely man what was going on.

What’s this new kink he probably thought, and will it hurt?

I had generously decided to try it myself first rather than experimenting on him.

After explaining to him the concept… I watched his face.

I am quite expert at reading his mind.

‘Wonder if I could get her to wear one during the day’, I could see him thinking.

I’m just messing with you

It is advised, that once a month or so, you clean your dishwasher or washing machine or whatever appliance you can thank for doing the shit stuff and saving you doing it by hand.

I am the early morning tea maker in our household. This involves making the tea/coffee, feeding the near to death starving cats who have barely made it through the night, making my lovely man’s much loved ‘breakfast bowl’ and also putting on a load of washing so that it can finish while we languish in bed for a bit.

Recently, I threw the required detergent that cleans said washing machine into the drum, set it to a programme over 60 degrees C and allowed it to clean itself. This, of course, you do when the machine is empty. Those marketing twits promise you it’s necessary to keep the machine clean.

Our washing machine plays a delightful little jingle when it’s done.

My lovely man, when he is within hearing range of the cheerful little jingle, is programmed to go and empty the machine and put the clothes in the dryer. Bless him.

I am, by now, in my epsom salts bath and I hear the jingle and then hear him heading to the machine to do the necessary. Like Pavlov’s pup. Isn’t he the best?

I wait and listen.

I hear him muttering, imagine him sticking his head into the empty drum, hear him slamming the door and then his determined steps to come and establish just what the hell is going on.

‘Darling, he says, you haven’t actually put any clothes……’

I was very tempted, of course, to say… ‘you must be mistaken, go and look again’

Love him… one day he’s going to murder me in my sleep.

Brace yourself…

I’ve long admired nice teeth.

There’s not much I covet, but if you have nice teeth, I want them.

My parents tried to straighten my little dracula teeth when I was a child, but I didn’t fancy wearing a brace and after losing or breaking two sets, I didn’t get another chance.

As a young adult my mouth met with a pole while riding a horse, and a dentist replaced the now cracked and missing front four with crowns and I had relatively straight teeth for the first time.

Another dentist on a dating site made the mistake of pointing out all the faults in my profile picture smile and then asked me out. A hard pass. Maybe should have humoured him and got everything fixed up. Didn’t think of it at the time. Twit. Him and I.

Anyhoo.. I got into a discussion with a dentist recently re improvements and he suggested we look into things. We need a few X Rays and scans he advised.

This was an understatement. X rays, scans, 2D scans, 3D scans. On and on.

What was that last one I made the mistake of asking.

Oh, that was for your inner most thoughts and the state of your soul.

Fair enough. Seems legit. There is talk of a rapture.

If you think your teeth are in relatively good shape, don’t let anyone show you a 3D scan of your mouth.

Unfortunately, they advised with glee, apart from the obvious issues (wot?), your bite is crushing your teeth and it’s just a matter of time before everything cracks up.

Are you saying I have a nasty bite, I asked.

Well yes, and your bark is quite something too.

So now… There is a whole plan involving a series of specialists to fix me up proper.

And I have joined the ranks of adult brace wearers. Clear aligners they call them.

I’m looking for a support group.

I also have to have receding gum treatment, which involves, just to make you shudder in horror and throw up a bit in your mouth, taking tissue from my palate to build up my gums.

I did ask if there was an option to use someone else’s palate.

They have, I noticed, written quite a bit in my file already…

Things like :

NOT BRAVE (Sedate as much as possible)

I suspect this may also be to stop me asking questions and giving opinions.

Marco….. Polo

About a year ago we splurged and upgraded my lovely man’s hearing aid.

The first set he had was not cheap, this one eye watering.

But… Necessary for his well being and my sanity really.

A few months later, we came back from walking the pups and he announced that one was missing.

The angels were watching over us, because we retraced our steps and found it lying in the road.

Darling… He announced earlier today… My left hearing aid is not in my ear.

Someone else take the wheel for a bit I thought to myself.

We started to look for it.

Do you think the app on my phone can track it he asked.

I looked at him… Astounded at the brilliance.

I actually had to sit down and take a wee sip of wine.

Where’s your phone?

I don’t know.

(Another sip).

Phone found…. The hearing aid is in the house!

And there we start…. Very Far…. Far.. Near.. The clever app guided us.

It’s in the kitchen!

15 minutes of searching the floor and counters. Realizing we have the worst tiles ever that could camouflage a lost rhinoceros if it fell on the floor.

Very near… It’s in the bin.

Of course.

Perhaps it’s time to give them a good clean my lovely man murmured.

Perhaps it’s time for wine.

Enjoy your stay

We have bathroom scales. Not recommended, but we do. We hate ourselves like that.

My lovely man announced that his was no longer working. Of course I checked and yes, it appeared to have given up on life.

Do you want to just use mine I enquired.

No, he firmly responded, yours is not very friendly.

I knew it! Arsehole thing.

So, I bought him a new scale.

There’s two here, he advised.

Yes, I said, it was a good price if I bought two.

He looked at me quietly.

You’re going to put the arsehole scale in the guest room aren’t you?

There’s a fat mirror in there too I told him.

No wonder nobody visits us twice.