Today I am contemplating the things or areas of my life that I would wish to outsource if I could. I'm thinking that they are going to be pretty freaking obvious. I mean, who wouldn't outsource all house work and mind numbing chores if they could? If you answered that YOU wouldn't, it's likely that you are deeply insane and require therapy immediately. Or that you are simply a too good to be true anal retentive perfectionist. If so, unfortunately we can't be friends because I could never invite you into my dishevelled house for a cakie and a cuppa. Which would be devastating for you. I'm pretty awesome, after all. Even if my house isn't.
Clearly, all house work would be at the top of my list of potential out sourcing. Is it one word, or two? Who knows. Whatever. If I never had to scrub a toilet again it would be way too soon for me. Ugh. Especially as I live in a house with four males and we only have one toilet. Because that is how non-cashed up bogans do it. We don't live in double storey split level Mc Mansions with six bedrooms and four bathrooms. Fark, imagine having to clean that many bathrooms? Frankly I don't want the Mc Mansion unless it comes with a cleaner as well.
Of course there is also the lovely little problem of Lego. I would love to have a Lego Fairy as well as a House Work and Dinner Fairy. We seem to possess truck loads of the stuff and while I do insist that Mr 5 and 9 pick it up themselves, somehow it has a mind and a will of it's own and still seems to migrate to every possible corner and crevice of the house.
When I'm getting dressed and notice something odd inside my shoe. Lego.
When I ease my weary, aching body into bed of an evening only to find something uncomfortable in my nether regions. Lego.
When I'm frantically searching through my handbag or car for a coin for the trolley at Aldi. What do I find instead? Lego.
When I want to just be able to plug the vacuum cleaner in and give the house a once over. What do I find? A million bloody random tiny pieces of Lego that are inevitably going to be sucked into my brand new 500 hundred dollar Dyson and begin rattling away. Sigh.
Another area of life I wish I could outsource or at the very least, avoid, is Awkward Conversations With Acquaintances You Don't Know Very Well. You know the kind. The person you might walk past almost everyday during school drop off and pick up. You don't really know them but you still feel obliged to say a polite hello. Then you might mention the weather and how much your children have all grown, at which point you've completely run out of things to say to each other. So you mumble something about how you better get going and flee. Rinse. Repeat. Everyday. Or every other day. Same thing. I am truly awful and hideous but how many times can you have the same banal conversation? Of course, I suppose the only way to get to know people is to actually talk to them but...jeez, don't get all logical on me. Okay, I'm just an anti-social biatch! Deal with it. Hmph.
I would also love to be able to clone myself so that I could outsource all of those horrid, mortifying doctors appointments such as Pap Smears. The only conversation that is more awkward than the ones you have with acquaintances you don't know very well are the ones you have with your GP or Gyno while they have a cold speculum inserted in your doo dah. Look, I was going to go with va jay jay but changed my mind at the last minute. Doo dah it is. Not the technical term but you know what I mean. Shut up.
Which reminds me, I am going to get my tits squashed (ie. Mammogrammed) for the first time next Monday and I expect it shall be not only awkward but frightfully painful. Why don't men have to have their bollocks squashed to buggery? So unfair. I am pausing to pout and sulk a for a little while as weepy violin music swells in the background. Right, sulking ceased. Violin music fades.
On with the show. Other things I wish I could outsource:
Packing: I am a chronic over packer. If there was such a thing as Over Packers Anonymous I would certainly be a member. Plus, I tend to become overly stressed over the whole procedure. Despite extensive list making I always seem to worry that I'll forget something vital.
Cooking: I am constantly waiting for the old Dinner Fairy that never shows up. Sometimes I don't mind cooking but when you have to cook everyday for a family of fussy eaters it becomes a tad tedious. The resulting washing up is even more tedious especially when you don't have a dishwasher. Yep, we're certifiable.
Parent/Teacher Interviews: I sometimes wish I could clone myself for these or outsource them too. For some absurd reason they make me squirm. I somehow feel like I'm back at school doing some sort of exam or test and I'm never sure what questions I'm supposed to ask. Also, I'm embarrassed to admit that I don't understand the boys homework should the subject come up. Mr 12's parent/teacher interviews are coming up and I've suddenly realised that now that he is in High School I'll have to see several different teachers instead of just one. Save me.
Well, there you have it. That's the stuff I would outsource. I should probably think about outsourcing this blog too but I won't because it's got my name on it. So ner.
Linking up with Kirsty from My Home Truths for I Must Confess.
What areas of your life would you outsource?
Clearly, all house work would be at the top of my list of potential out sourcing. Is it one word, or two? Who knows. Whatever. If I never had to scrub a toilet again it would be way too soon for me. Ugh. Especially as I live in a house with four males and we only have one toilet. Because that is how non-cashed up bogans do it. We don't live in double storey split level Mc Mansions with six bedrooms and four bathrooms. Fark, imagine having to clean that many bathrooms? Frankly I don't want the Mc Mansion unless it comes with a cleaner as well.
Of course there is also the lovely little problem of Lego. I would love to have a Lego Fairy as well as a House Work and Dinner Fairy. We seem to possess truck loads of the stuff and while I do insist that Mr 5 and 9 pick it up themselves, somehow it has a mind and a will of it's own and still seems to migrate to every possible corner and crevice of the house.
When I'm getting dressed and notice something odd inside my shoe. Lego.
When I ease my weary, aching body into bed of an evening only to find something uncomfortable in my nether regions. Lego.
When I'm frantically searching through my handbag or car for a coin for the trolley at Aldi. What do I find instead? Lego.
When I want to just be able to plug the vacuum cleaner in and give the house a once over. What do I find? A million bloody random tiny pieces of Lego that are inevitably going to be sucked into my brand new 500 hundred dollar Dyson and begin rattling away. Sigh.
Another area of life I wish I could outsource or at the very least, avoid, is Awkward Conversations With Acquaintances You Don't Know Very Well. You know the kind. The person you might walk past almost everyday during school drop off and pick up. You don't really know them but you still feel obliged to say a polite hello. Then you might mention the weather and how much your children have all grown, at which point you've completely run out of things to say to each other. So you mumble something about how you better get going and flee. Rinse. Repeat. Everyday. Or every other day. Same thing. I am truly awful and hideous but how many times can you have the same banal conversation? Of course, I suppose the only way to get to know people is to actually talk to them but...jeez, don't get all logical on me. Okay, I'm just an anti-social biatch! Deal with it. Hmph.
I would also love to be able to clone myself so that I could outsource all of those horrid, mortifying doctors appointments such as Pap Smears. The only conversation that is more awkward than the ones you have with acquaintances you don't know very well are the ones you have with your GP or Gyno while they have a cold speculum inserted in your doo dah. Look, I was going to go with va jay jay but changed my mind at the last minute. Doo dah it is. Not the technical term but you know what I mean. Shut up.
Which reminds me, I am going to get my tits squashed (ie. Mammogrammed) for the first time next Monday and I expect it shall be not only awkward but frightfully painful. Why don't men have to have their bollocks squashed to buggery? So unfair. I am pausing to pout and sulk a for a little while as weepy violin music swells in the background. Right, sulking ceased. Violin music fades.
On with the show. Other things I wish I could outsource:
Packing: I am a chronic over packer. If there was such a thing as Over Packers Anonymous I would certainly be a member. Plus, I tend to become overly stressed over the whole procedure. Despite extensive list making I always seem to worry that I'll forget something vital.
Cooking: I am constantly waiting for the old Dinner Fairy that never shows up. Sometimes I don't mind cooking but when you have to cook everyday for a family of fussy eaters it becomes a tad tedious. The resulting washing up is even more tedious especially when you don't have a dishwasher. Yep, we're certifiable.
Parent/Teacher Interviews: I sometimes wish I could clone myself for these or outsource them too. For some absurd reason they make me squirm. I somehow feel like I'm back at school doing some sort of exam or test and I'm never sure what questions I'm supposed to ask. Also, I'm embarrassed to admit that I don't understand the boys homework should the subject come up. Mr 12's parent/teacher interviews are coming up and I've suddenly realised that now that he is in High School I'll have to see several different teachers instead of just one. Save me.
Well, there you have it. That's the stuff I would outsource. I should probably think about outsourcing this blog too but I won't because it's got my name on it. So ner.
Linking up with Kirsty from My Home Truths for I Must Confess.
What areas of your life would you outsource?
