In the past few days, I have got very little accomplished.
I was kid free for a whole weekend. In theory, I should be sitting in the middle of a mecca of clean folded washing, neatly filed paperwork and an aura of unbearable smugness. I’ve had all the time in the world – well, two days, which is pretty much unheard of.
Here’s the thing though. I have an angel and a devil.
Actually, that’s not quite true. The word angel suggests a paragon of virtue, driven by pure motives to improve the world. In reality, my angel is a mealy-mouthed housewife who bitches more or less constantly. She’s obsessed with jobs that really don’t matter, and the colour of the grout, and actually pairing the socks so the miniscule coloured lines match up when everyone knows that they’re inside shoes so it really doesn’t make any fricking difference whatsoever.
My devil, on the other hand, has none of the interesting wickedness that you might associate with the name. He doesn’t tempt me with things that are terribly, terribly naughty but probably worth going to hell for anyway. No, my devil is only invested in sitting round on the couch, scratching his balls, eating Doritos and watching Teletubbies because he can’t be arsed to find the remote.
Oh god. My devil is a student.
Anyway, I’m lying around in bed at the unheard of hour of 9.30am (hidden in a pile of pillows – I have nine pillows – I like to pretend I’m a bog weevil peeking out from between them all), and these two start up.
Angel: I can’t believe you’re still in bed. You auto-woke up at 6.30 and since then you’ve done nothing whatsoever. Just drunk six cups of earl grey tea and eaten a block of chocolate that you’re pretending is breakfast because you can’t be bothered to make toast. You should be ashamed of yourself. Look at that pile of ironing.
I look at the pile of ironing. It looks back at me. To be honest I’m quite looking forward to the moment when it’s actually done and I basically have a whole new wardrobe. It’s been there for so long that I’ve forgotten what’s in there. It’s really quite exciting.
Devil: Yeah… nuh. Mm. Bed is nice. Though there are only eight pillows here. Oh, look, there’s number nine on the floor. Better pick it up and then spend ten minutes testing whether the bed is 11.11% comfier.
Angel: Oh my GOD. Don’t you dare. You still have to scrub the toilet before alphabetising the children’s book collection and sorting out all those paired socks you got wrong last time.
Devil: (Doesn’t answer. Is too busy fossicking about in the metaphorical couch for a bag of Cheezels he just remembered he left there last week).
I take the opportunity while they’re distracted to read half a book and have another cup of tea.
And that was my weekend. I read six books. I got caffeine overload. I did no ironing.
And I’m Not. Even. Sorry. 🙂