Mops and cups of tea

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The enjo mop wouldn’t go in. I fussed around, struggling to make it do what it didn’t want to do. Then I finally figured I had to move the vacuum to put it in. out goes the dyson, in goes the mop, then back in goes the vacuum. “Well, that was fun”, I said to myself.

The broom didn’t want to go in either. Ironing boards and cat food had to be slid out before the broom would agree to cross the threshold into the laundry cupboard. I surprised myself by not breaking anything.

Mum calls me over to the kitchen bench, “Come watch this. I’m putting your pillowcase together.” She was making it to match my bedspread. “Give me a moment, I’ll just finish this.” I was concentrating on unpicking some fabric from another piece. I finish and observe my mother pinning the material together. As I admire to cloth, I remember another thing to put on the pegdolls I making for my hairdressers girls. After I decide what colour wool I’ll use as the hair, I boil the kettle for a cup of tea {or, in my case, hot chocolate}.

All this happened in a space of ten minutes, while poor school kids eat their lunch out in the cold.

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