Wednesday, July 19, 2006

Prodigal Peace Piercer

For 3 weeks I have lived a quiet, peaceful existence in a clean, tidy haven of serenity and calm. I've not had to go to Tesco once. Admittedly, this did involve some careful planning to ensure I visited friends likely to offer me supper on the rare nights that I wasn't attending a catered meeting. The laundry basket has been so empty as to barely justify turning on the machine more frequently than once every 10 days, and only then to give me something to do. I have returned home most* nights to find each room as gleamingly tidy and ordered as when I left it. Empty rooms have been unlit.

Today it was all shattered. I now sit amongst a plethora of wet towels festooning every surface save for the towel rail. My washing machine is spinning for the 8th consecutive time and threatens to overheat. I cannot cross a room without tripping over an assortment of trainers, flip-flops, aftershave boxes, kangaroo testicles and pilfered sign boards. Steam billows from the shower room, sticky puddles of gel are already oozing across the mantelpiece, the air heavy with the aroma of Givenchy for Men and transequatorial sweat. The cat is dizzy from being somersaulted around the room. There is barely an item in the fridge that hasn't been half-eaten. 2 cartons of juice lie empty and abandoned where they fell, not quite reaching the bin. My Bebel Gilberto CD has been silenced, drowned out by the strains of Fall Out Boy and AC/DC. The lovingly-pressed, riceflour-scented sheets of the carefully made bed lie twisted and buckled despite only having been sat upon and not yet slept in. A disembowelled hold-all is abandoned in the kitchen where it first came to rest. I can barely set foot outside the door for fear of being hit by a homing boomerang and lights blaze from every window.

And all this devastation in barely 2 hours.

Yep. Jack's back, at least he hung around long enough to create the chaos described above before heading out, in his new aussie shorts and accompanying aussie t-shirt, sporting a beard, bleached hair, the remains of a black eye and a deep caramel tan to catch up with his mates, tell them the unabridged tales of which I'd been treated to edited highlights all the way back from Newark, and share a bag or 2 of crocodile/ emu/ roo jerky.

Happy days are here again!


* I've slept out at least 5 nights

17 Comments:

Blogger Within Without said...

I was going to say you must have found a man, but...sounds like you've found YOUR man again.

Or he's found you, much to his delight.

Happy Days are Here Again.

What a beautiful Mum you must be.

Now I need to Google Tesco after hearing both you and Vicus Scurra mention it in the same day...

1:26 am  
Blogger Kate said...

It's strange how you miss all that stuff isn't it LOL

kangaroo testicles - what! why?

11:02 am  
Blogger Within Without said...

Geez, there's lots of testes talk these days...

2:44 pm  
Blogger Carmenzta said...

Cherrypie,
You must be so happy! The lovely chaos created by our offspring.

I am going through son withdrawal myself as my oldest son was deployed to Iraq for the 2nd time, and my youngest is in New Hampshire with cousins. My laundry basket is so sad and empty and I find I have all this time on my hands that I would have spent cleaning, bending over to pick up socks, and putting together meals. I have no idea what I will do with myself when they are both out of the house, I guess I'll adopt a chihuahua or become an alcoholic or something. ENJOY!!!

3:47 pm  
Blogger CeCe said...

Oh, but you're ever so happy to have him back, of course!

4:48 pm  
Blogger The Birdman said...

Ahhh... bet you'd almost forgotten the joys of parenthood!

Another great read, Cherry... really enjoy reading your "adventures".

9:07 pm  
Blogger homo escapeons said...

I love how you encapsualte the vortex like phenomenon of living with teenagers.
I have no doubt that Jackaroo had a smashing time downunda but also that he is equally delighted to be back in the valet catered care of his Mum!
Equally enjoyable (despite the sporadic waves of parental panic) was your Valhallic reprieve and environmentally adult simulated lifestyle alteration.

All is well that ends well.

6:36 am  
Blogger tom909 said...

He sounds like a nice kid - see, single mum's can be the best!

10:03 am  
Blogger cream said...

So, Cherrybabe, your peace is shattered...But did you miss him?

5:26 pm  
Blogger St Jude said...

You have my sympathy, daughters aren't any tidier. But be honest it's great to have them home again.

5:49 pm  
Blogger Joyce said...

ahh, sweet Cherry! At last I've had a chance to read up a little. Love the note home from the boy- you must be SO PROUD! All that lovely education, all those pencils and notepads well spent! Yes, and the description of the home may as well be mine, as well. I run around cleaning it all up every four minutes, then by 20 seconds into the fourth minute.... its all in vain.
love ya.

2:59 am  
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8:46 pm  
Blogger Carmenzta said...

Is no space (real or cyber) commercial free? Sheesh.

zyikd - New, recently FDA-approved anti-depressant that also filters out commercials for you when you are watching TV.

4:16 pm  
Blogger delcatto said...

Hmmm...my son is thirteen and the trail he leaves in his wake...clothes, crockery,paper,NOISE!,etc..
It is nice to have a clean, tidy adult space but after the first day you miss 'em. Then they return and the warm missing 'em feeling soon goes.
Happy days indeed and make the most of them.

8:48 pm  
Blogger krusty the baker said...

You love it when the boys are back.

9:19 pm  
Blogger Boo said...

My daughter won't leave home! :)

How can I appreciate her if she doesn't?


All good wishes CherryPie!

Love Boo xx

12:21 am  
Blogger Evan said...

Thanks for the comment- I'll just pop round the corner and have a look for the mobile- Hey Aussie shielas, didn't mind the English Roses in North Watford!!!!

9:19 am  

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