O Internets, how I love thee.
One little mention of how bare of memes my bloggy cupboards are looking in this new home and the care packages roll in.
Stomper Girl has tagged me for the Horrifying Sounds meme, which seems to be right up my alley in highlighting the heart-chilling aural memories attached to any number of everyday situations.
Plus, hardly any rules. I love it. There do need to be some limits, however, so I'm keeping it to truly horrifying sounds heard since we moved into this house 12 months ago.
Horrifying Sounds:
1. "crunch". From the back of the car as I'm reversing. Is it a child's bike? Is it a child with crispy bones? No! It's only both halves of our new front gates, invisible below the rearview mirror of the car and now scattered cross the footpath and road.
2. "About 55-60". The Professor telling me the number of people who had rsvp'd to our drop-in pre-Christmas party last year. I'd been thinking maybe 20...30 tops.
3. "Wiff glue." The answer given by my four year olds when, after admiring their beautiful hand-drawn pictures and saying how clever they were for displaying them above their beds, I asked them how they got the pictures to stay there on the wall.
4. "--------------". Hear that horrifying silence? It's the sound of water slowly seeping from our new fishpond at the rate of about a centimetre a day. I found the bubbly patch of waterproofing paint last week and have almost conceded there is no way to fix it other than draining, drying, and starting all over a-fucking-gain.
5. "I wet my bed." Sigh.
6. "I wet my bed again." Fuck. This means the pre-made second layer of sheets is now wet too, as is the spare quilt, and a third set of pyjamas has to be found...
7. "I'm itchy." Followed by: "This note is to advise you that your child/ren have been found to have headlice. Please ensure this infestation is treated and all lice and eggs are removed before your child/ren return to daycare where they can be instantly re-infested by the children of the many parents who don't give a rat's arse."
8. "I can't start until the 25th of June". The words of my newest employee, the one who was going to be trained to fill in for me so I could fly to Melbourne on the 25th of June for a WHOLE WEEK of work-funded sleeping in a No-Snore zone and almost certainly a night of meeting Melbourne Bloggers and Gallery 112 commenters.
9. "That's a strawberry tongue!" Excited young doctor, showing off her diagnosis of the Gorgeous Boy's latest heritage disease: Scarlet Fever.
10. "Knock, knock". My brother, who'd fabulously offered to take the children overnight so we could go out, returning them the next day two hours earlier than expected. Horrifying in itself? No, but couple it with the fact that we'd only returned home at 4am and then woken at 8am with that urgent desire of all parents to take advantage of an empty house... and before you could say boom-chicka-wow-wow, with that knock on the door we were scrambling for clothing and making sure the kitchen bench looked as if it had only ever been used for buttering toast.
mtc (and, probably, tmi)
bec
ps - the Warm Chocolate Tart post is written but pics are not cooperating tonight, will be with you soon.
pps - if you have a horrifying sound in your head, consider yourself tagged.
