It’s school reports time again, hip hip hooray! Don’t worry though… I have it all in hand. I only have twenty-six to write this year instead of the outrageously unworkable twenty-seven I had to write last year.
I had it all worked out for this weekend. I was intending to party hard on Saturday and clean the entire bottom level of the house and start on my report writing on Sunday.
I definitely partied hard on Saturday; lunch at the Leagues Club with the other golf widows, Kyles and Rona at 12:30 sharp, followed by drinks in the afternoon for my sister Sam’s birthday.
I know it sounds like quite a lot of drinking but this old chook knows how to pace herself. I’m a child of the Eighties. I have a liver of stainless steel.
Anyway… It seems I must have caught a bug or eaten a bad prawn because I woke up this morning with a pulsating headache and feeling as though a cockatoo had done its business in my mouth. Every time I stood up I’d be gripped by a wave of nausea and feel as if I was about to faint. My fox terrier kept sidling up to me on the couch and sniffing around my heart area.
“I think the dog is trying to tell me I’m about to die,” I bleated to Scotto. He was living through his own personal self-inflicted hell and barely grunted in response.
All this meant I was unable to clean anything at all except the mystery drawer under the goldfish area. We haven’t had a goldfish for at least eight years but a goldfish once lived there so we still call it the goldfish area.
Anyway… It seems I must have caught a bug or eaten a bad prawn because I woke up this morning with a pulsating headache and feeling as though a cockatoo had done its business in my mouth. Every time I stood up I’d be gripped by a wave of nausea and feel as if I was about to faint. My fox terrier kept sidling up to me on the couch and sniffing around my heart area.
“I think the dog is trying to tell me I’m about to die,” I bleated to Scotto. He was living through his own personal self-inflicted hell and barely grunted in response.
All this meant I was unable to clean anything at all except the mystery drawer under the goldfish area. We haven’t had a goldfish for at least eight years but a goldfish once lived there so we still call it the goldfish area.
Mystery Drawer |
The main reason I so urgently needed to clean out the mystery drawer is because I also needed to clean out the ‘plastic container’ drawer underneath as this little poopette...
Hagar at 4... how bloody cute. |
...is moving out with his delightful girlfriend, Meggles on Tuesday and I wanted her to be able to find all her Tupperware.
Yes, you heard correctly. Hagar, my third son is moving out, close on the tail of his younger brother, Padraic. Now there will only be one little Poinker left in the Poinker mansion.
I will no longer have anything to write about so you can expect a lot more posts about Chihuahuas and Miniature Fox Terriers.
And I achieved nothing in the report writing department except this:
Pinky is an easily distracted and restless student who doesn't seem to be capable of applying herself. Her organisational skills need improvement and she is still learning to use self-control in the classroom. She is a popular student in her own mind but irritates others at times with constant chatting and leaving her seat. Pinky’s sense of humour lacks originality and it is hoped she will grow in maturity and try harder next year. I wish Pinky a happy Christmas holiday period and good luck in 2015.
Do you have a mystery drawer?