Don't throw it all away...

The husband was away last night, and yesterday morning around 5.30 (it felt like 4.30) the alarm went off, heralding his departure.  Of course, he hadn't packed the night before, so the next twenty minutes was spent huffing in the wardrobe trying to find clothes suitable for the adult classroom.  All this while I was trying to snatch a few extra snoozies.  

Bearing this in mind, I think that next time he goes away, I shall offer to pack his case the night before. Imagine his joy when he unzips his holdall and pulls out a frilly nightdress, a dog bowl, one wellington and a tube of hair removal cream.  That will teach him to be a bit more 'Baden Powell' if you know what I mean.

Anyway, when he goes away, I always have great plans to do stuff.  This can range from full decoration of the house to carpet cleaning or simply getting completely up to date with everyday jobs.  This time though, I have been handed quite a tricky job.

Speaking to daughter number two at the weekend, I asked her whether she and Jolly Sock Man would be staying over on Easter Day.  After a lot of waffling, she finally admitted that she couldn't let him stay because it meant him seeing her bedroom in its full adolescent glory.  

'Would you adultify it for me Mumpty?' she asked. 'We could stay over then'.

Now daughter number two lived in that room on and off for nine years till she was twenty one, so you imagine the range of crap still residing in there.  There is everything from a fairy hanging from the curtain rail to a whiteboard of quotes from her last summer before university.  I don't understand many of these (and even if I did, I would deny it) but it's a memento of a crazy time before the hard work started.  I am in full agreement with her that all these things are special and can't just be thrown away, but where do I put it all in pursuit of a grown up guest room?

She suggested the airing cupboard, but this has been taken over by the husband and his old biking leathers.  I then considered son number one's bedroom, but lo and behold, the husband has moved all the stuff removed from his newly sorted office, from the downstairs bedroom into this room, so that's a no go. I shall probably go and buy some of those massive plastic storage boxes and stack it up in the garage....right in front of the husband's motorbike to punish him for encroaching on my space.  He should know that the only space he has any control over is the garage and a 4" x 2" space on the side table in the lounge where the TV remote sits. 

But I digress.  Along with the boxes, I've also bought new curtains, bed linen and a bedside lamp for the new adultified room.  

It would have been cheaper to leave it as it is and put her and Jolly Sock Man up in a nearby hotel... 

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