Mostly, it was an ok day.

The euwww didn’t really start till evening. You would think it would have started with the toddler’s morning poo, but that was, well, normal and not terrily euwwy at all. I guess that’s all relative, however, and some would find that concept in and of itself disgustingly euwwy and vomit inducing. Me, meh. As I said, all relative, 12 years ago, yes, I would have run away in a gagging, retching hysteria. Thankfully, my kids have killed that part of me.

And induced euwwiness in other ways.

Sure, it rained again, all day; that’s day three now, and it was a bit icky dealing with the washing on the line. Being slapped in the face with a sopping wet, King single fitted sheet when you least expect it can evoke feelings of bleaurgh. Also, discomfort. And annoyance.

We even managed to make it through a movie and I shared a popcorn and small lemon squash with the ten year old and didn’t die or have any need to feel sick.

Then we got home, where I was grabbed from behind, drawn into and smothered by a fitted mattress protector whilst Monkey Boy did his standard sloppy job of feeding the cats.

The clothes line full, and clothing bits almost, almost but not quite dry due to a high wind we’d had moments earlier, I decided to transfer some needed items to the “horse racks” – usually referred to by normal people as “clothes horses” or “drying racks” – and narrowly avoided stepping in the a blob of tinned cat food resting between the two old, decrepit and fally apart racks we own.

I spewed forth a random rant pertaining to carefulness of distributing cat food, where an appropriate place to feed them might be, and my express desire for a decent rack that will hold more than 3 pairs of kids underpants and a sock. Also, that both the feeding of cats and purchase of horse racks was something I was fairly sure I’d had frequent rants about previously. Just ask the neighbours.

Narrowly avoiding a situation that would cause me to run away gagging and retching hysterically, I artfully maneouvered my way between all the wet clothes, the cat food bowls and cat food spillage, and miraculously prevented the clean, but sopping clothing from falling into cat food bowls, as the horse racks are prone to collapsing when you move them. Or think about moving them. Or breath within a distance of 10 metres of them.

I was not, however, skillful enough to prevent Chippie from working his way past his father and out to me, naked but for a nappy,

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