This year I entered my thirties, finally set up my own business and I’m packing up and moving to a little house in the suburbs next month. I’ve stopped drinking during the week, I get out of bed to go to the gym and, nine times out of ten, I actually take my makeup off every night. Oh, and i’m pregnant with my first baby.
It all sounds impressive, doesn’t it? Like I’ve swallowed a copy of Good fucking Housewife and can’t stop shitting homemade scones. But, as with literally everything you read on the internet, we are neatly glossing over a few minor details.
I still, for example, can’t get any sort of legitimate credit card. There are various banal reasons for this, including the fact that my entire generation is fucked. I also have absolutely no idea how to deal with any sort of household related problems in an adult way, which I demonstrated flawlessly over the Bank Holiday weekend.
It started last Wednesday when I was struck down in my prime by food poisoning and spent over 24 hours throwing up what felt like every single organ in my body. I won’t go into details, but it was every bit as horrendous as you’d expect. Of course, the added bonus of being ill while you’re pregnant, is that you can’t just worry about yourself anymore, you have to think of the lodger living rent-free off your body. Long story short; it was gross but I’m fine.
Fast forward to bank holiday Monday and I’m drying my hair ready to go out for the first proper meal I’ve been able to stomach in nearly 5 days, when suddenly I hear a dripping noise.
Armed with a hairbrush, I went to investigate wearing nothing but a Towel because apparently I’m really dedicated to being the first person to die in a horror film. Turns out, the dripping was coming from the kitchen which was, for want of a better description, flooded to fuck.
There was water pouring out of every drawer, the dog was rolling in the puddle that was slowly seeping its way towards the lounge and I was running round in a towel like a blue-arsed fly trying to figure out how to shut the water off.
After a stressful hour that involved flashing the neighbours three times, and ruining every towel in the house because I’m thirty years old and still yet to invest in a real mop, I realised that the problem was that my Drains were blocked, so the bathwater had come up the kitchen sink and overflowed.
Or should I say, I’d managed to BLOCK MY OWN DRAINS WITH VOMIT.
There are few more humbling sentences that that one, I swear to god.
So, that was three days ago and, despite following all of the questionable advice I found on ‘Yahoo Answers’ (that strange phenomenon used by people who don’t understand about Google) I still can’t flush the toilet without it gurgling back up through the bath. I’ve got a plumber coming round at the weekend which I’d dreading because I’m going to have to watch him unblock my own sick from my drains while I stand there and try not to look like the disgusting creature who caused the blockage.
Moral of the story… well, I don’t really know what the moral of the story is. Invest in a mop and chew your food? Whatever, I’m getting cheese fries.
Until next time… x
The post Being an adult is cancelled appeared first on Scarlet Wonderland.
