Thirsty Thursday: How about my Spring collection?
Sarah McCarthy’s Thirsty Thursday column is brought to you each week thanks to Invercargill-based law firm Mee & Henry Law.
Sarah McCarthy’s Thirsty Thursday column is brought to you each week thanks to Invercargill-based law firm Mee & Henry Law
THIRSTY THURSDAY
I said to Mr mr today, “I don’t know what to write my column about this week” and he said, “Why don’t you write about my Spring collection?” which is what he said he was wearing this morning when he got out of the shower and paraded around the whare in nothing but his creepy uncle leather slides, waggling himself about.
The little one brushed his teeth in the kitchen sink because he said he didn’t want to have to stand next to him in our tiny bathroom and I don’t blame him.
I was also too busy avoiding the Spring Collection to notice that the little one’s hair was full of jam so we’re just acing parenting yet again this week.
The big one got home this afternoon and had thrown himself on the bed as he had been messenger at school today and was exhausted from, I don’t know, having to walk around?
And I saw a tantalising glimpse of belly and so I attacked him and tried to blow a raspberry on his tummy and he has gotten very strong and managed to throw me off and I landed on the cat and then he asked me if I’d been drinking so I won’t be trying to be an amusing mummy again any time soon.
I have to get dinner sorted shortly because Mr mr has A Thing tonight and he has to be fed before he goes out, even though I’m ovaries deep in rehearsals again and I always sort or at least plan dinner before I leave and tonight is the only night off I get this week.
And when I was scrambling to get everything sorted before I left the house this morning to go to Gore the dishwasher hadn’t been turned on and so that’s still waiting to be done and the dishes are piling up in the sink because god forbid any of the men in my house open the dishwasher even a crack in case it’s full of the dreaded clean dishes.
I’m getting to the part of the week where I want to start shouting at everyone but nobody listens or can hear me over the YouTube blaring and the dog barking and people saying things like, “Can you make me a cheese toastie?” and “yeeees the Spring Collection” (which makes me think that Somebody has read my open screen while I was making a cheese toastie or putting something away) and it’s also the time of the year that every other fucking person on Facebook is at a villa in Bali and I have feelings about it.
The small one also thinks he is in hell because there was some unpleasantness around getting him in the shower at the weekend and he has had privileges revoked and thinks that by whingeing about it we will concede.
I don’t know where he got that idea because I am incredibly stubborn and so we are at an impasse and I feel like while the deep-seated fear that’s following all of us in the world around this week could actually be a deliverance of sorts because at least I wouldn’t have to listen to someone making passive aggressive comments about not being able to use his brother’s VR headset if I was snuffed out in a white hot flash of forever.
But then I just had some avocados delivered, which sounds impossibly decadent, but I had looked at how much they cost and thought about how much I’d happily spend on wine and reasoned that they are the only fresh thing other than carrots I’ll happily eat in this deep, dark time of the year.
They also haven’t been schlepped from pillar to post and squeezed by a hundred grasping fingers in the supermarket so I decided to treat myself, and now I feel on top of the world again and am planning to buy thin sliced Vogels and to make nachos and eat other avocado-adjacent things and be brimming with good fats and have glowing skin and leave the gastro bug I got just before Matariki (no cauliflower cheese, no wine, no friends, no Kumera pie) far behind me.
PS Peace.
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