bastard irony

fuckitfuckitfuckit.



I'm having a run of bad luck. Or clumsiness due to lack of sleep, perhaps. I'm down to my last blue bowl of the set I have - what do you call, my delf? You might know that I STOOD on my laptop screen last week. Some have sniggered and suggested it's perfect timing for getting a new one, but they don't seem to realise that this IS new, and is still being paid for, essentially. They seem to think I'm married to Santa. The reality is, I'll be buying a new screen for eighty dollars from ebay, plus forty five postage and packing. Woo. And then praying and sweating while my brother installs it. Will he read the instructions? I suppose it couldn't be much worse than me standing on it...



So this evening, I was doing some washing up while the dinner bubbled, in an attempt to make a dint in the piled chaos of my home. The dishwasher was full, so I washed my red Williams Sonoma melamine bowl and set it on the dishrack to dry (er, as you do).


I got this is in the States, in May, and my poor pregnant cousin schlepped to the post office to ship it to me as I left it behind, along with various other bits, as I always do. I got them with delight, as my mother had had purple ones, that came here with her in the sixties, and I associate them with baking and licking the bowl, nostalgic etc. When my sister came over to get her share of my mother's stuff, she'd said I could keep it, then decided to take it after all, as she had come to the conclusion that Axel and I had plotted together to ensure that she didn't get to scatter my mother's ashes hersef - but I suppose that's a story for another day.


A friend had suggested that I was wrong to want to replace the bowl, as material possessions should not represent happiness, and there was no point being bonded to them. So I resisted the allure of ebay - for years! Til I got to the States and found myself in Williams Sonoma. And there they were, cherry red and beautiful. And so useful, pretty to look at, comfortable to hold when mixing, just right for baking. I've already dropped the small one, tonight, the gods were laughing at me - a cosmic sign that I was right all along not to wash up... I could have cried, though, really. Crouched on the floor and cried, all childish. My pretty red bowl!



What's really Ironic, though, is what I was thinking about when I did it. I'd been cheerily composing a little wish list, of all the fancy wantsies on my lottery list. You know, just in case some Blogger Benefactor Santa type might be passing through, looking for women to make grateful.


You already know about the Kitchenaid, and as it's a wishlist, I may as well upgrade.

A Nokia N95, added bonus of being able to pretend I won blogpost of the month!

A new car. I thought I'd got over backing into the gatepost, but when rushing my baking over to Olivia's school Christmas Fair last weekend, I positively whizzed into it, and tore a huge rent into the side of the car. You know, the bit behind the passenger door, the panel that runs all the way around the car. I already have two dinted doors that stick, which will stop me passing the NCT, that I'm a year overdue for... ulp!

I want a pair of these, as my current boots are on their second, maybe third? year and I suspect they're starting to go a bit rotten inside. You know the way.

I'd like the Twilight books, that looks right up my street, I'm surprisingly unashamed to say.

I'd better stop there, in case the house falls down.