It’s been one of those mornings in this household where you feel the whole house would fall down if you were suddenly taken ill and had to take to your bed.
“Where’s my tie?! I can’t find my tie. You didn’t give me my tie.”
Putting aside the fact they’re perfectly capable of laying their own school clothes out on a night and don’t need me to do it for them, to keep the peace I have a wander upstairs and see the bloody tie about two steps away in the middle of the floor.
As, you know, if it doesn’t jump up and bite you on the nose end then it’s impossible to see.
So, I’m putting myself on hold and setting up some kind of hotline.
Dial 1 for clean socks
Dial 2 for lost items that contrary to popular belief I can’t just pull out of my arse
Dial 3 for “tell it to the hand as the face ain’t bovvered” whilst putting them on hold to torture music of your choice for several hours.
Some type of so called ‘mum’ music that will be sure to enrage them further, just for the laughs.
In my case, that’d be music from the 80s and therefore deemed ancient.
When you’re all set up, squirrel yourself away in the Call Centre hub, which is a locked room of your choice, chocolate, enough wine to sink a battleship, and dvd boxsets on loop whilst Dad can take on role of personal maid and mug.
If there’s any problems with this, you can find me on 01 don’t give a chuff 2 5.
In the meantime, listen to some nice relaxing music as I stick you all on hold….. bzzzz