Day 11. Minor Annoyances

Little Jackie Brown, as Elf is called.  As predicted, I have climbed into bed every night since he arrived and then immediately climbed out again, cursing him and his unmagical demands.

Nits.  Found a batch (small - but a batch nonetheless) on the back of the Girl’s head today.  Spent a stressful half hour listening to her screech as I attacked her with my new, take-no-prisoners pesticide and steel comb (with thanks to a recent Anonymous commenter for pointing me in the direction of such here). 

Evil car. I suspect our car is possessed (or else I am). First the car handle broke off, then the roaches, and now other random bits of car have started to disintegrate. Then this evening there was a distinct smell of pee in there.   (To all those who have asked me why I haven’t yet fumigated it – I honestly do not have in any day in my foreseeable future a three-hour window when I don’t need the car.  The car and I are like Siamese twins.  One big evil twin dragging along a stumpy despairing one.)

Singaporean beauticians.  (In fact this is not limited to beauticians;  the Singaporeans are the Swedes of Asia when it comes to home truths.)  During a fraxel appointment (laser thingy which promises you 20 year old skin, and assures you that MOST DEFINITELY the remains of you pregnancy mask will be zapped away, but first, please, hand over all our money.  And your husband’s.  Thanks.  Oh, it didn’t work?  You clearly need more.) today I was asked by FOUR SEPARATE PEOPLE if I wanted (a) botox on my forehead (“Are you sure?  Because it would be great for you.” (b) botox by my eyes (“Not even to get rid of the crows’ feet?”);  (c) jaw (by which they clearly meant jowl) –tightening procedure (“People in your age category love it”); and (d) skin brightening treatment (“It can really help if you look exhausted”).   So I stopped by the hardware shop on my way home and bought a water-proof paper bag.

Breaches of domestic hygiene.  Today the Baby helped herself to a half-eaten, possibly regurgitated, nut in the hamster’s cage.  I think that ranks with “a bat crawled up my arm” in terms of disgustingness.

Christmas presents.  OHGODHOWISITMIDDECEMBERALREADY?

Dishwashers.  Or, more accurately, what happens to dishwashers in the tropics when you leave them shut for an afternoon:

(No, that is not bubbles.  I didn’t dare to go any closer for a better shot.)

HOWEVER!  US Prosecutor  has just reminded me that the latest Serial is online. Woohoo! Nighty Night.