Adventures of a drying housewife

I am having a truly mental day. It could be described as one of the mentaller days in my life. Why?

Because at the weekend the tumble dryer dissolved and a family of four, with no dryer, rain, a mountainous range of washing which is, truth be told, doing a very passable impression of the Alps, and a child waking me at just after 6 in the morning to inform me they have, “No trousers left!” is not the best start.

The continuation, however, surpassed all of that.

Yesterday, a lady called to say our new dryer would be delivered between 9.00 and 13.00.

My husband decided to go to work late so he could help carry the new machine up the steps and down the stairs.

Fine I thought, I can’t go to the gym now, but I’ll try and slot it in some other time.

Before 9am I managed to: fit in a meeting with the teacher, deliver a child to school, do a wash, go to the chemist, pick up something for lunch and motivate an ADHD child to: have a shower, wear clothes, take medicine, eat breakfast, brush his teeth and not take any unnecessary tat in his schoolbag.

By 9.15 I could have drunk a vodka and orange but I settled for a coffee instead.

Between 9:17 and 13.00: I had a second breakfast, reorganised the washroom and cleaned it (a bloody miracle), rescheduled appointments, loaded the dishwasher, filled out a medical questionnaire, shouted a lot about the mess in the washroom, swore somewhat, drank a calming coffee, checked email, shouted about the non-appearance of the delivery man, picked up a small person from Kindergarten dodging a war zone of road works , worried the delivery driver may have had an accident, visited the loo and stared gormlessly out of the window willing my dryer to arrive.

At 12.58 one now rather impatient husband, called the delivery company and explained, somewhat icily, our predicament.

There may have been some background noise, like, “Where’s my bloody dryer…?” But I can’t be sure.

The delivery company, after a transfer or two, admitted their mistake and promised delivery within an hour.

One husband decided to remain home for lunch. But fretted the whole time about the work he wasn’t doing in the office.

13.45 I shouted rather loudly. At walls. At doors. At random children. At the husband. The main theme being all the different places I needed to be in the afternoon picking items/people up.

13:46 One husband shouted in a frustrated fashion that, “The bloody delivery better come soon!”

13:48 One stroppy wife er… I, jumped into the car and zoomed around picking up essentials from two completely different villages, located in opposite directions. Then filled the starving car with petrol.

14:15 I raced into the house to see a somewhat demented husband, on the phone to an exasperated colleague. No dryer.

By 15:00: One hysterical couple had redecorated the house, bought fifteen books from Amazon, played a full length game of monopoly, grown a beard, eaten four boxes of home-made chocolates, drowned their sorrows in two bottles of whiskey and a crate of beer and baked a cake in the hope that the aroma would entice one delivery driver possessing one tumble dryer, to appear.

15.30 – 15.40 I took over the withhold-delivery negotiations with said delivery company. Comprising of a transfer or five through various negotiators. Some swearing. A lot of “OK’s”. Some stamping of feet. Much hair twirling. And a driver turning up whilst I was still on the phone.

By 16.07 tumble dryer heaved downstairs, unpacked, plugged in, inducted and put to work.

16.30 Husband finally kissed goodbye at place of work.

Between 16.31 and 19.27 I: had a mad 23km drive in pouring rain from one town to another. Picked up one child. Returned desperately to previous town behind Sunday drivers (why are Sunday drivers out on a Wednesday?) accompanied with some cursing. Suffered a near-heart-attack as 15-year-old asked permission to go to a 3-day-concert, 300km away. Then followed a stern talk with said teenager. Smooth town parking (i.e. no scraping of our terrible-to-park car). Mad dash to music shop. Test drive of several instruments (Aden has to pick which instrument to be taught at High School in September, and the school need to know by next week, so they have the instrument reserved for him). Promised kids something to eat but then made some of them cry as I realised right outside the cafe that I had no cash left. Hit department store and bought birthday presents and sweets with debit card. Forgot to purchase drinks. More tears. Drove home.

19.28 Started preparing dinner. Fish out of freezer for hubby and I later.

19.30 Heated debate with mother-in-law on telephone.

19.48 Children’s dinner served.

20.15 Consoling discussion with father-in-law, also on phone.

20.57 Children to bed. Work began: washing, drying, dishes, coffee, folding clothes, pairing socks, tidying, checking email, checking blog.

23.14 Husband finally arrived home from work. Fish in warm kitchen had gone off.


Still to be done: Another wash. Think up another possible dinner. Cook dinner. Inform husband of heated debate. Sleep on husband’s shoulder.


6 thoughts on “Adventures of a drying housewife”

    1. I wrote it through almost closed eyes. MIL, no not really. An ongoing saga that I suspect will have no real solution. Luckily though, hubby and I share the same opinion.

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