Well, we were given due warning about the water being turned off from 18.00 until 04.00 so I roared into action (for the second time in 2 weeks as we were given the same warning the other day which was then cancelled) and this time I impressed even myself.
Directly to shops on the way home, no spinning of wheels but defintely speedier than usual. Provisions bought, I headed home with imminent threat of drought hanging over me like the sword of Damocles.
No collapsing in a heap and bargaining for tea with Miss M, but directly into kitchen, kettle filled (to the brim), apron on, vegetables prepared, dog food defrosted, small bath run in my bathroom for eventualities like the water not coming on in the morning and faces to be washed etc.
Meal pre-prepared and left uber-hausfrau-like on stove top with clean dishtowel over it to preserve image of domestic efficiency rather than keep off insects. Then I filled 2 large jugs with clean water (more checked dishtowels in situ) and preprepared water bottles for school and work the next day. Then fed the dogs (including antibiotics inserted into deepthroated geriatric dog to keep nasty long-term infection at bay) after which I could still scrub hands obsessively for at least 2 minutes........time was ticking by, could the Municipality be relied on to stick to the agreed time.
Miss M. off to bath with strict instructions to leave water in for flushing of lavatory and other thrilling grey water necessities and sitting room tidied for no reason other than that I had all this time on my hands - where had it come from? Then, kitchen immaculate, so much so that as I was going to put the oven on for cauliflower and broccoli cheese, I whipped up (yes, I whipped) a rice pudding which I haven't made in years. Why rice pudding, you may ask, well I think it was a combination of all this time available and all the dishtowels.... Right, off to shower and wash hair and cut toe nails and oil body and moisurise face and ...hell, what other future torment can I prepare for?
By 17.30 Miss M. was enquiring about supper so by 18.00 we were eating. You see the pattern? For a serial procrastinator, nay, a pathological procrastionator - all this planning gave me an entirely new take on the short hours between hometime and bedtime (usually about 23.00). By 20.39 I was in my basket and completely exhausted from all the unusual activity at an accelerated speed.
Think I need to ask the powers that be for some of those scary lamp post posters that threaten lights off or water off or nuclear war or whatever - just to kick me into gear and help me realise my full potential as a domestic goddess.
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