Domesticity

The thing about being a grown up is that an awful lot of the stuff that you're supposed to allocate time to is fucking boring.

A case in point is the ongoing saga of the washing machine. Here it is in synospis

1. For a variety of reasons, my washing machine has been at a friend's house for about two years.
2. I reclaimed it in about August of last year
3. In December it was nicked (our laundry was outdoors)
4. I put in an insurance claim
5. They decided I was dodgy and made me spend hours making phone calls, filling in forms, visiting police stations and talking to 'assessors' (investigators).
6. I was background checked for criminal record, bad debts and they even had a look at my online auction account to make sure I wasn't coincidentally selling a washing machine
7. Eventually they paid out about half what I had spent including interest on the loan repayments and mechanical breakdown insurance
8. The Flat (me and Claire) bought a second one online
9. While I was away it leaked, flooded the cupboard and short circuted the plug socket
10. We got that fixed... and just last week it broke down completely
11. I got a rental today after waiting three hours for the fuckers to deliver it
12. It's leaked all over the cupboard but luckily we haven't fixed the plug in there so at least that didn't repeat.

So there you are. It's all so fucking mundane and yet I reckon I've spent about 30 hours or so in the last four months on all of the many washing machines I've had in my life recently. And I don't even have a working one yet

30 hours? But that's not very long is it? Well it's more time than I've spent on the following in the same time span:

1. Attending the theatre
2. Watching DVDs
3. Catching up with several of my close friends
4. Skyping
5. Browsing in book shops
6. Taking lunch breaks
7. Going to the cinema
8. Doing voluntary work
9. Drinking cocktails
10. Trying on new shoes
11. Reading poetry
12. Sleeping in

I would much rather be doing any of the latter list but bloody grown up shite always gets in the way.

Maybe I should be like the Queen and only wear my clothes once? That could be solution. But for now I have no clean sports socks to run in tomorrow and that makes me ANGRY.