Wednesday, 4 May 2016

Story of my life...

Words from Bird.  Day 125.

I had a text from daughter number 2 this afternoon. 

'Just leaving SMB.  X'

I was looking at it wondering what she was prattling on about, terrified that I might have missed something she had mentioned on the Sunday (this would have been when the beefcake was on the lawn, so perfectly understandable why my mind was elsewhere).  Also, what (or where) on earth was SMB?  Just as I was racking my addled brain, a second text came in from her.  Looking forward to some enlightenment, I eagerly opened up the text.

'Oh sorry.  That's not for you! X'

No explanation of what (or where) SMB was, no clue as to who the intended recipient was.  Feeling extremely unloved and discarded, I replied with,

'Story of my life'.

This set me thinking about all the things that I think are mine, which aren't, and the things which head my way which shouldn't, as they are definitely nothing to do with me.  Let's break this down a bit.

Some of the things which I wrongly think are mine include:

The last helping of Chocolate Trifle in the fridge (son number 2 has priority on all things chocolate, so that would be his)
A pair of size 7 leather boots which I bought last year (they fit daughter number 2, and therefore now are hers)
Silence on a Sunday evening with a good book (wrong again - Sunday+Males=Top Gear/Football/Grand Prix, so definitely not mine...ever)
My wide toothed combs (to date, I have bought at least nine of these....not a single one resides in my dressing table).

What about the things which shouldn't head my way, but still do?

Checking the husband's and all the children's spelling and punctuation.  Do I look like a dictionary?
Cleaning children's bedrooms.  I didn't make the mess, I didn't throw anything on your floor, it wasn't me that left that banana skin and a half drunk can of drink on your window sill, and yet.....
Requests for strange food items (tonight's demand was from son number 2 for chocolate brioche).  You have a car, you even have money (on occasions).  Buy it yourself...

So you see what I mean...life is never completely clear as to who gets what.  All I know is that I seem to get everything...but never seem to be allowed to keep the good bits for very long.  What it boils down to I suppose is 'what's mine is yours, and what's yours is yours' (at least where anything tasty/pretty/useful is involved).

And I still don't know what (or where) SMB was.....

Daughter number 2, if you read this, you should know that it's killing me not knowing...
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