Carpet layers coming

 Hi there

I've been all a-flutter the last couple of days, moving furniture before the carpet layers arrive.  Oooh, I'm getting new carpet, yippee!   There's nothing as lovely as scrunching bare tootsies into beautiful warm fluffy carpet as you hop out of bed.

So, I've been cramming furniture into back rooms away from their original places, as per the carpet layer's instructions.  By tomorrow those back rooms will look like a hoarder's paradise and I'll be clambering over cabinets and drawers, and rubbish bags full of clothes and CDs, and cushions, and drawers. My wardrobe doors will be blocked, and other doors too.  How will I get to the loo?

I've uncovered what surely has to be years of accumulated dust, and found $1.20 in loose change down the sides of the sofa. I discovered  17 plastic supermarket shopping bags stuffed behind a hall table,  two parasol-like umbrellas that haven't been opened since the 1960s, and does a woman really need so many backpacks and purses?

None of the books in the lounge bookcase have been read in, at least, ten years so why on earth am I keeping them?  

The advance guard for the carpet layers informed me that compared to others, I don't have much clutter.  Huh?  What was he talking about?  I have ornaments, for goodness sake!  And bags of clothes.  And shoes.  And swimming paraphenalia.  And too many photos of my late cat, StarGirl.

And I also have hayfever...  Curse you, household dust.  And curses especially go out to my vacuum cleaner because when I emptied it today, sprays of fluff and dust sprayed up into my face, like Ruapehu suddenly erupting...

Those eyedrops

 Hi there

I'm still on my eyedrops, 10 a day for at least two more months.  The dosage has dropped from 12 a day and before that, 15. 

When I was told I couldn't stop them, I wanted to do a Billy Elliot angry dance. But... I can't dance.

 So, instead I ransacked the cupboard for anything chocolate because chocolate is, of course, angry food.  When I am so toddler-tantrum angry I crave chocolate.  

I couldn't find chocolate anywhere, not even when I climbed up a step-stool to the top shelf of my pantry where I usually hide the Crunchie Bars.

All I could find was a bag of marshmallows.  Marshmallows?  Come on now, marshmallows are not angry food.  Marshmallows are for sitting in a field of daisies in a long chiffon dress, and patting a unicorn ....

 

So Sad

 Hi there

How truly sad that our queen has passed away,  One of her official titles is, of course, 'Queen of New Zealand'.  I remember as a child going with my entire school to see her coronation on the screen at the Majestic Theatre in Wellington. 

On the day of the coronation we heard that our Sir Edmund Hilary  had been the first to conquer Mt Everest.  I still remember bits of the song about Hilary's feat:

Now you're done it

Reached the summit

Three cheers for the red, white, and blue

Today, we have Charles as our king.   When he came to Wellington a few years ago, I wandered down the road to Weta Workshop with the hope that I would see him. There were only a dozen or so of us waiting outside.  Charles came over to me and reached out his hand.  I hurriedly brought my hands out from my hoodie pockets, and we had a handshake. Goodness, I've just realised: I've shaken hands with our reigning monarch, King Charles III...

Superstitions our mothers told us

 Hi there

I've been wondering about how long superstitions last in our generational memories. Our parents passed down to us superstitions recognised by their parents and grandparents.  Usually, in our modern day times, however, we laugh about such things.   "Goodness," we chortle, "we don't care if we accidentally break a mirror.  Psssh, who truly believes that there'll be seven years' bad luck ...?"

Or how about walking under a ladder?  True believers do think the action is going to bring bad luck.  I must admit that when I see a ladder I do veer away from it.  "It's sensible," I tell myself. "A bucket of paint might drop on my head."  

However if I do happen to accidentally walk under that ladder I cross my fingers, just as a safety precaution.

 My grandmother told me that I must never bring lilies or peacock feathers into a house, or I would hear of a death.  Same hear-of-a-death-thing if a bunch of flies continually hover around a person, or a bird flies inside the house (pick your bird - different countries' superstitions allocate different birds).   Crossed knives bring bad luck too, a hard thing to avoid as practically every time I do the dishes in the sink, there are crossed knives everywhere.  I retaliate by (again) crossing my fingers!

 When I rush out of the house, slamming the door behind me, I often suddenly think, "Oh, dash-it, I've forgotten my sunglasses (or wallet, or SuperGold Card, or whatever)."  But I hesitate about turning around to go back inside.

"It's unlucky to return for something," my grandmother told me.  "If you do - once you get inside - you must sit down (another version is turn around three times).  

The weird thing is, I do sit down for an instant.  I gave up turning around three times a long time ago; it makes you a bit dizzy when running back out the door with your sunglasses.

I saw the most beautiful sundress in a Taupo shop last summer.  My heart yearned for it. All those wonderful colours, swirls of peacock feathers patterned throughout the style.

I stood looking at that dress for a long time.  In the end I sorrowfully turned away.  I mean, I couldn't wear those unlucky peacock feathers.  Grandma would be so displeased...