|Alleviating boredom? (Google image)|
I find many chores so supremely boring and repetitive that I do my level best to avoid them as far as possible but keeping within the bounds of respectability and general hygiene. We sold a few items of furniture to our local second-hand shop this week - it's nice to de-clutter - but the result was that my husband tut-tutted about the amount of dust that was discovered behind/under the afore-mentioned (heavy) pieces and immediately got into cleaning mode, happily scrubbing/vacuuming everything in sight, before dashing off to wash the car and thereafter to his latest garage project. I am getting the uncomfortable feeling that the balance of doing the 'jobs' in this house is leaning perilously towards his side of the the fence and that I ought to pull my socks up before he realises this. He has been doing all the mowing as well, as I have been in a sulk since I discovered that our new electric lawn-mower does not drive itself, you actually have to push it. I liked our old petrol mower with it's sturdy Honda motor, I could even start it myself with the string, but the strings kept breaking so we got this other one: note that my husband can't bear to part with the old one and it takes up a large amount of space in our shed. Still at 35 years old it deserves to go on pension as long as it keeps it's place in our hearts. Also, I used to mow acres of lawn at my parents' home in England when I went over every in the summer months, but the grass was soft and green and you had to run behind the state-on-the-art mower to keep up with it. That was lawn-mowing bliss and I got spoilt. Now I have to cope with miles of electric wire so that the machine can reach our pavement where we have a pocket handkerchief-sized piece of grass which I felt I should in all fairness be able to manage. The off-putting part is that I have to unwind/windup about 12 metres of extension cord and same of the machine's own electric cord. I have so little patience for this that I consciously have to calm my mind by counting the coils until it's done. The compensations are that my conscience nags me less and the pavement grass really looks good. For now. In a civilized world I suppose the local council is supposed to see to the pavement?