Welcome to the life an times of a Suburban princess.
Today i wanted out of suburbia, well at least this house in this part of suburbia. You see I live on a hill, a large noisy angry agressive hill. Yesterday when sitting here trying to find what other useless thing i could buy on ebay i heard a large bang.
Wandering outside I was met with the sickening sight of two cars intimate in a way that cars should not be.
The ambulances arrived and my driveway was blocked for several hours by emergency services. The neighbours bantered and we all commented on our hatred for this road. I wandered back inside and rang the Husbie.
" I want to move now "
thoughts of my children in that car came rushing through my mind. How how is it worth having a large house when the price you pay is russian roulette everytime you drive out the drive way.
I wandered around this house, carefully sidestepping the trail of toys from one end to the other.
Would it be better somewhere smaller.
A tiny box in a quiet cul de sac, yes , a place where i would have to keep control of the mess or drown in the overwhelming sea of toys.
Husband came home and i burst into tears.
"I hate this road"
" I hate that this house is half done"
"I hate the concretors"
And therein lies the crux of the problem.
Dave the Concretor........ started out all right and now has left us, no contact numbers and with several thousand dollars of our money.
Do we feel sick ? Yes
Do we feel stupid ? Yes
Do we get reminded of our foolishness everytime we walk out our door ? Yes
The problems really aren't with the house and the road has always been there. What i want is for Dave the Concretor to come. We have rung Dave to the point of stalking. Dave has come and made promises and promptly broken them the next day.
Dave pisses me off.
The fathers ringing or passing comment "When's it going to be finished"
wghhhhhhhh Dave where are you ?
I thought i was sad, however the whole outdoor being taken for a ride thing seems to be far more impactive for a man than this little Suburban Princess.
James' whole masculinity has been called into question.
"Was I ever taught how to handle this stuff?" he cried into the computer as Dave's ABN proved to be a fake.
He apologises profusely as he tries again in vain to ring Dave the Concretor.
James is fearful that i will lose respect for him.
Did i want to marry Mr Perfect ?
Well yes.........
Do I wish that i could just click and husband could do all that is required to administratively run a house ?
Well Yes.....
BUT
Do i want the man that can cross the T's and Dot the I's at the expense of the man who loves me extravagently, who is spontaneous, who puts up with the fact that our house looks like Chernobyl on most days.
Absolutely not....
And so we wait for Dave the concretor
