Why you’re better than me.
Do you know where you live?
Because apparently I do not. I sent out all the invitations to Lucy’s birthday party next weekend with.. wait for it. The wrong street name. Oh yes, people, line up to bask in my awesomeness! I blame the local police who evicted the previous tenants. It’s their fault because they didn’t write the correct street name on the report they filed, which the new estate agent then used to write out the lease. So yes, our legal lease ALSO has the wrong name on it. (And doesn’t my suburb just get more appealing as each second goes by? Send your kids here, for a party folks! Yeah, they’ll be perfectly safe!).
Do you pay your bills?
Nope. I don’t do this one, either. Somehow this week I managed to completely miss a bill. It wasn’t a small bill, either. We pay our childcare account monthly and it is always in credit. It’s easy to keep on top of that way. Unless you don’t pay it. Then it smashes through the floor into the negatives astonishingly fast. I actually fought with Matt when he bought the statement home saying we owed money. Then mid outrage realized I couldn’t find the receipt for the transaction. Then couldn’t’ find the transaction on our bank statement. I had that sinking feeling that maybe he was right, which would make me wrong. Shiteballs. Then not only did I have to ‘fess up that I had forgotten to pay it, but I also had to admit, to him, that he was right.
Do you finish what you’ve started?
Another strike against me. In 24 hours, I’ve sterilized Oliver’s bottles not once, not twice, but three times. Because I keep forgetting about them, and wandering off. They can only sit for six hours. The first time I turned it on was 9pm last night. I don’t know who decided I should be in charge of the house and the kids. I don’t know how we’ve survived this long.
And that brings me to dinner. Matt has just walked in the door after getting home fifteen minutes ago, because hands up the person who burnt dinner the only night of the week she is responsible for cooking it. Oh yes. Come to my smoky kitchen, charcoal delights to be had! Matt and Lucy are eating McDonalds, and I’m opening windows and cursing my stupidity. Again.
And on that note I’m off to put the washing into the dryer before I forget. Yes, again. You knew it was coming. It’s been washed twice. What? So now It smells super pretty, as opposed to that hideous smell that assaults your nostrils when you find washing that may have been sitting in a machine for oh, Lets say hours. Yes. Lets go with hours.
I know what’s happened to me. I know why it’s all gone so wrong. I’ve been losing weight. I just didn’t realize it was coming off my BRAIN.