Perpetual tidying and not wasting

Oh, yes, it is perpetual, this domestic tidying. And the randomness of it all: lone baby socks, cardboard toilet roll holders, leaflets, toast crusts and the occasional crushed grape on the carpet. I found a 50 pence piece under the bed and felt the urge to throw it in the bin, just to save me walking down the stairs again to try to find my purse. But of course I didn't. That would have been wasteful to the point of immoral.

I now have three bars of Palmolive soap sitting on the hall unit. The hall unit where everything miscellaneous ends up. I had bought a 4 pack of the soap on a whim, thinking it smelled fresh and alpine. Eh? Rethink - durr, it smells like an explosion in a Magic Tree factory, garish and over-chemically. I am struggling through the first bar and must jettison the others! But where shall they go? Let them not linger for too long in my hallway. Be gone, soaps, but not wasted. Fragrance-free soapery, I open my arms to you again.

-C

Blimmin' facebook

Why, oh why, did I reactivate my Facebook account? I was perfectly happy without it. Positively serene without it. Now I feel a need to check it every day and this irks me. One more thing to check in a long list of daily checks. It's all scrappy and bitty and busy. And I'm too self-conscious to write anything on it, so I just look at everyone's 'news' and comment and then wonder what else I could have spent the time on. Grrr, Facebook. Stop it. Okay, just one more look...

...I think I will cease Facebooking. When it bugs me enough. However, I did love the film about the story behind Facebook, 'The Social Network'. It was cracking. Mike Leigh's latest film, Another Year, was too clunky and hammy for me. Hey, I sound like someone who goes to the cinema often. Twice in six months, maybe. Right, enough trivia. I'm starting to go a bit Facebook-y and I need to do something else instead.

I shall pat myself on the back for doing well while Nice Man is still away round the back end of Europe with his rock and roll band.

'Well, it's a fiat actually...'

I am surprised and bemused by Hugh's fascination with cars and types of cars. At the age of 2, he's starting to get a bit Jeremy Clarkson on me. It started with black taxis. They prompt a joyous exclamation from him each time. 'Black taxi!'

Then I told him a red car was a 'Mini car' and he started identifying Minis everywhere. I tried him with 'Volkswagen', just to see if he could even manage the word, and then he started pointing out Volkswagen Golfs too, with less accuracy, however. Today I heard myself say, 'Well, it's a Fiat actually,' while thinking, how did I get us into this 'trainspotter' zone with motor vehicles? To me a car is a car. Sometimes I feel eco-guilt about having one, so why don't we look at some trees/flowers/goldfish instead?

Still, I take joy in Hugh's joy - whatever he's interested in. I'll enthuse about cars. I already do! 'Broom, broom.' Today was his second birthday and after his bath, I turned off the bedroom light and we looked out at fireworks going off across the city. I felt really moved to think of the moments of dizzy happiness of the last two years.

-C