l have…wait for it….’house guests’. 9 of them. That happens around holiday time when you live at the beach.
Three days they are here for…..there was 13 but four had to go home Boxing day afternoon.
By Boxing day nightfall -l was stressed. Really stressed. l’ve developed an eye tick and have mastered the art of the false plastered smile. Lucky that the good tidings and all that cheer and good lovin’ prevented me from doing one of the little selfish snotbags in.
Like, l ask you…l think its great that you all love playing in the ocean beside my house but sand belongs on the beach, not on the floor nor inside the loo (no idea how???) and it really isn’ t my job to wash your 13 changes of clothes each day because YOU can’t think ahead to change them before you go to the beach. And no, l don’t think the sandcastle that you have built on the bedroom floor is skilful nor cute.
Yes, the stock caravan is locked to keep punks like you lot out and no, the dogs are not enjoying the way you all chase them down to ‘show them you are friendly’. If they sink their teeth into your ankles, don’t think l’m going to bring out the first aide box and the white chihuahua didn’t need to have its tail painted with food colouring.
6 rolls of loo paper in one day scares me, as does the 8 large pizzas you all ordered and left me to pay for.
No, l will not take photos of your private bits or kooky poses and heat press them onto mugs so you can all go shock your workmates when you go back to work. And really, must one end of the room be blasting Adam Brand out loud while at the other end, the television is up full volume with no one watching it and just outside the window some ungodly voice screams about the injustice of the world at ear-drum bursting decibels.
There is roast pork, roast turkey leftovers, roast beef topside and roast chicken on the table. Three of you were not vegitarians yesterday so eat up and stop your damn sooking.
Whoever decided to fire up one of my computers, delete all the emails ‘by accident’ and then yell out ‘a little box on the screen asks if l want to format ‘c’ drive. Do l say yes?’…….l’d like my christmas card back please. l no longer like you.
And seriously, l love it that you caught 3 schnapper but why the @#@# can’t you clean them at the jetty?
So.
This morning: l’ve off loaded one on the bus and most of the others have headed out for a day on the beach with the boat.
One has stayed behind and is stuck in house work mode so parts of the house sparkle (and other parts have security bio-hazard tape draped across the doorways as unfit for human entry)
l realised yesterday that there is one extra body that dosen’t belong with any family l know. Appears one of my lot of kids (relation) found a stray kid (local) on the beach and thought he’d bring him home to play with. Have returned stray kid to its parents (who said dammit)
House guests. Blah humbug.
There has been about 25 sales on my accounts and l have mugs to press, invoices to print and parcels to pack ready for tomorrow’s post. l also have to go into work for a half day tomorrow which means you all have run of the swamp for the duration.
If no one can find me, l’ve locked my self in the eBay stock room or l’ve run away from home.
