Domestic Blister

We’ve all done it haven’t we? We load up the smoothie maker with brightly coloured fruits just bursting with all our essential vitamins and nutrients. We’ve added in a good dollop of low-fat-can’t –get- any-lower-than- this- no- fat- zero- fat-zilch- fat- Greek yoghurt. We’ve spritzed in a sharp twist of lime for that extra morning zing and then pressed the big red button on the front to blitz the whole lot into a glass full of gorgeously good for us, no rx makes us feel all virtuous, troche homemade deliciousness, aka breakfast smoothie…

But we forgot to put the lid on, didn’t we?

And now we are in a prime position to test out another health and wellbeing theory –  the added hair conditioning properties of yogurt and lime juice.

As I stood in the kitchen that particular Monday morning, with gloopy honey dripping from my nose and a half pureed raspberry sliding slowly down my lapel, it dawned on me that like all other kitchen appliances, perhaps I’d be best placed to wash everything down, pull the box out from the cupboard and pack all the shiny bits away. Then I could happily take them all back to the good place from whence they came; my mother-in-law.

My mother-in-law keeps those gadgety shopping channels in business. You know the ones where in ten easy credit card payments you too can be the owner of a rather ordinary saucepan set that you can roast a whole chicken in? She has a particular penchant for those appliances which promise to revolutionise our domestic goddess capabilities. If that’s what you are after, then she’s your lady. Power wash steam cleaners, apple slicers, dicers and make nicer’s, circulation massagers that make coffee while you mow the lawn. You name it, she has it. Then by default, so do we. In an effort to make life easier for me, being the busy, stretched working mother that I am, apparently I need goods aplenty.  I do suspect there’s something in there about our house never been quiet as diamond bright sparkly as hers, or the kids meals we prepare being quite as packed with freshly prepared vegetables as they are at her place.

Domesticity and I, well, we’re not good bed fellows.

I managed to burn a stew in a slow cooker and it had only been on for four of the requisite seven hours.

The inside of my vacuum cleaner is a effigy to the kids sock drawers and the plastic toy rejects that come free with children’s magazines.

I tried the apple cutter on an onion (ooh, quick thinking me, that’ll work perfectly, no smelly onion hands, no tears due to overexposure of onion juice whilst I painstakingly chop, chop, chop the three onions needed for my new (stew) recipe. Instead I ended up with a cut finger and real tears on top of the noticeably present onion induced tears.

I bruised my big toe with the pressure washer when I gave the driveway a quick going over and tried to ward a persistent bee away from my open toed flip flopped feet.

Gadgets and I. We’re just not compatible.

So I duly pack up the smoothie maker, and put it with the pile of items to return to the in-laws after another unsuccessful stint of trying to make like a domestic goddess. Next time, I’ll stick to the approach I know best. Ring in a takeaway, bulk buy frozen veg and hire myself a cleaner.

It’s safer for everyone all round.

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