Decided it was high time I sorted out the boys’ room yesterday, and it ended up being quite a trip, down Memory Lane that is, not trip trippy like with acid.
Cleaning their room , I took my life in my hands, a HazMat suit would have been useful.
There was mounds of stuff that looked to me remarkably like it had once been edible, but I know that cannot be the case because they are not allowed food in their rooms.
Piles and piles of what appeared to be dried orange peel.
( How come it smells so good on a pomander, but in a pile under the bed no so?)
Sweet wrappers, empty biscuit boxes, and empty packet of cocoa?, crisp packets.
I could go on, but you get the picture, you too, may have a similar room in your house.
Unless you are DITOH of course, who is not welcome here.;)
Foolishly I have recently left them to their own devices with the cleaning, and obviously their method of choice is,
‘shove everything under the bed’, a method I thought my brothers and I had invented and perfected and never told a soul about. A secret I thought we were taking to our graves.
Like our devious ‘ Irish Setters Hand Washing Deception’ devised in Osmotherly 1975.
So just pulling the debris from under the bed took much of the morning. I now know where Kev’s shirts go.
I thought he had eaten them all, but some survived his molars and escaped into the wilderness beneath.
Next big project, pulling what appeared to be GUM off the floor. Again, can’t be GUM, GUM, is illegal in this house, after the unfortunate GUM in hair-head shaving incident of 2003.
Then there was the broken toys, the cards that are no longer collected, cards stashed in every available place, clothes that don’t fit, clothes that were stashed dirty, never to come clean again. Remote control cars and trucks that haven’t moved an inch in years, Thomas the Bolshy Tank Engine, derailed never to chug again, never to offer Prozac to Gordon.
The errant Lego, the blocks, the Wikki Stix, pieces from Othello, a lone wheel from a roller shoe,
if there was any light under there, ( and I could fit) I could have taken a photo and just called it BOYHOOD.
My topaz pendant, my Brownie badge, my Robertsons’ Go##y badge, ( careful!)
They are not boys, they’re magpies.
It was sad really, Sunshine’s room used to be in the same state, just different crap, pens, notelets, endless pieces of paper, comic books, little bags and purses, broken skipping ropes…..
now somehow it morphed, it is the same degree of mess but it’s eyeliner pencils, mascaras, boy band posters and fashion magazines, tissues and face masks, bigger bags, bigger purses.
I don’t quite know how and when it happened.
I know one day I will miss the HazMat mess under the bed.