dimanche 27 novembre 2016
FOOD FOR THOUGHT
CHAPTER NINETY-FOUR :
Today I'll start by paying a tribute to the queens and kings of the mops, brooms, dusters and squeegees who gave me their helpful housework-handy tips, and their clever shortcuts to speed up my deadly boring cleaning routine !
Thanks a lot also to those who suggested me links to cleaning blogs
(flylady.net seems to win general approval ), and to housework music playlists.
I guess i'll try all of them, even though regarding music I already know that for me it doesn't work that well !
Let me explain.
As mopping the floor is one of my pet peeves, once, to make that chore, let's say " more bearable ", I decided to put some background music on.
I needed something which would make me want to move.
Sure, the Rolling Stones would rock my mop forward and backward with such a great beat that, before I could say Jack Robinson,the floor would be spick and span !
Half-an-hour later, when the rock band stopped for a break, I was sweating and panting, but the floor was none the cleaner.
I had been jiggling around a lot, trying to mimic Mick Jager (in spite of his " You're so vain " warning song ), and all this time the cheeky mop had been taking it easy, dripping slowly but surely into the bucket !
Slower music ? Well, it would mean flicking the feather duster gently on dog paws stains, and just expecting some miracle to happen ?
Just a fairy tale ! Forget about it !
No, sorry, to keep my dance floor in good condition, I really need to keep focused on the task, so a blanket ban on any kind of music when doing that chore !
The only background music : my heavy sighs and my angry mumblings !
Anyway, with all the feedback I've received, I think I could start my own business as a housework coach. All the easier as , as the saying goes " Advice is cheap ".
So, if you need cleaning gimmicks, don't hesitate to drop me a mail*. I'll be happy to share my brand-new knowledge !
Last week, as I was feasting on your pretty witty tips and tricks to get rid of chores quickly or to wriggle out of them ( becoming a cavewoman was a real brainwave !), I spotted a mail with an attachment.
Quite unusual. Sometimes, you add links or photos to your messages, but never attached documents or files.
I know that email attachments can be harmful, but, as up to then my anti-virus software had been quite reliable, I thought I couldn't deprive myself of any good reading or advice.
For once, " curiosity kills the cat " proved wrong !
The mailI read was absolutely adorable!
Tricia said that she had always been a dog-lover, but, as she was living in a block where pets were not allowed, she was feeling kind of frusrated.
So, she was offering me her free service as a dog-walker !
Actually, the attached document was her résumé.
Her love for dogs was really unconditional : volunteering at the local animal shelter to walk the dogs in her free-time, raising funds for the shelter, getting food donated by pet-food suppliers, boy, that girl was an incredible dogs' guardian angel !!
Unfortunately, she had a job and could not dogsit for us several days in a row, so we could not make a deal.
Anyway, we exchanged quite a few friendly mails and phone-calls, cause dog-lovers always have plenty of pawsome stories simmering !
We discovered that we are both dogaholics, and that neither of us is on the way to recovery.
When I told her that years ago I was scared stiff of dogs, she said she knew, cause she had read " Flying Potatoes ( chapter 54), but she couldn't believe it .
She thought I had made up the whole of it for the blog.
Of course, not !!
All my stories are true, they are just everyday life small events, but I give you only the bright side of them !!
As she wanted to know how I managed to overcome my fear of Dusty, the English basset who turned my first stay in England into a nightmare, I told her the rest of my doggy adventure...
That very first year, when I left England, Dusty and I were not in good terms at all !
My English family was awfully sorry and ashamed, too, of their bad
boy's behaviour, but unfortunately couldn't stop his growling at me.
The year after, when I went back for a two months' stay , my decision was made : Grumpy Dusty would not rule the roost . I would get the upper hand !
Then came the queston : how ?
Petting him ? Just thinking about it sent shivers all along my spine. His sharp sparkling teeth, his lip smacking noises while gazing greedily at my fingers ? No way !
So what ?
I spent the whole crossing from Dover to Southampton hatching plans to tame the fierce dog.
Unfortunately, as soon as I stepped into the garden, they all fell through !
Dusty started humming his war song and immediately mylegs turned to jelly !
Anyway, I managed to pretend I could not care less, but in my mind I was thinking : " Here we go again ! ".
While unpacking, I racked my brain to find a peaceful solution.
What on earth could work a miracle and coax Dusty ?
Sure, my enemy number one had a chink in his armor !
And then the lady called me : " Perky, dinner is ready ! ".
Dinner ? Bingo !
Dusty was always peckish, and at meal times he was in agony !
Whatever the scolding or the punishment, he could not help begging for bits of what we were having. But my hostess was strict : she wanted to keep the leadership, so the poor starving little thing was not allowed anything, not even the tiniest breadcrumb !
He was given his food only once the table was cleared !
Well, if bribing him during dinner was absolutely forbidden, in the feeding rules there was no mention of " after dinner ".
I had the solution ! I was saved !!
I would prepare his food bowl, and become his favourite waitress !
As soon as we sat down at table, Dusty started turning around my chair, begging for food, scratching my leg and growling sneakily.
He was not the least upset by his mistress's threatening " Stop it,
naughty boy, otherwise...".
Dusty was grumpy, but pretty clear-sighted : threat ? Much ado about nothing, just hot air !
He knew he was his mum's sugar baby, and nothing wrong could happen to him !
Once more my hostess was sorry and apologized, but dinner was over, I stood up and said :
" Don't worry, I will eat him ! ".
She stared at me, horrified ! Her cute little dog turned into a hot dog ?
She knew French people were said to eat snails and frogs, but she had never heard about dog meat on sale at the butcher's !
Had her poor doggy got on my nerves that much ?
As she was still staring at me, I suddenly realized I had confused " to eat and to feed ", or to be honest, the verb " to feed " did not belong to my poor vocabulary yet.
As Hungry Dusty was getting fed up (but not fed yet), I rushed to the kitchen and came back with his bowl and his favourite dry pet food !
He wagged his tail, smiled at me (come on, I'm kidding. Just my vivid imagination again), and followed me cheerfully to his dinning-mat.
Then, all throughout my stay, I was the one in charge of filling his bowl (and his stomach, as well), and that's how we became good buddies !!
And, also, how I learnt that the verb " to feed " means to give food !
Well, thanks again for your feedback : you really spoon-feed me, and it gives food for thought !!
That's all for this week, everydoggy !
Have a nice week and don't forget : be perky !