Right……before I get started with this rant, I have to first clarify that, a) I love and respect my parents, and, b) This is a JOKE……yes, my rant has some basis in the truth…..but, it’s still a JOKE.
So, remember…….I’m joking……and, I love you!
And…..if my Auntie Cathy happens to read this blog entry (and, I know that you sometimes do…..despite the fact that I told Kate to NEVER let you see my blog), you must NEVER, EVER, EVER discuss this rant with my parents…..as I’ll never hear the last of it.
So…..do we have a deal?
We do?
Good…..then let the rant begin!
I don’t know what happens to a human brain when it reaches the age of 65+…….but, for some reason, it appears that the smallest, most insignificant things in an ‘old’ persons life, seems to cause the biggest disruption to them…..and, to a 38 year old, this is FUCKING INFURIATING!
So, here’s the background to story to my problem….it’s really, really straightforward.
1. I have a very small car, with a small boot.
2. I have to carry around two plastic boxes filled with customer files.
3. I needed to fit Bridie’s pushchair into the boot.
4. I asked my parents if I could store my boxes in their garage to free up some space in my boot.
5. Errrr……that’s it.
Since then, every time I’ve seen my parents, the ‘boxes’ have been an ‘issue’.
Various small comments have been made in passing, about my ‘stuff‘ being ‘everywhere‘…..and, “when are you going to move your boxes?
These two boxes are in the garage……a garage that doesn’t EVER house a car……a garage that has enough free space to swing a fucking tiger.
My boxes are literately taking up less than 2m of space!
Less than two fucking metres!
So, why are my boxes such a goddamn problem for them?
What do my parents think is going to happen?
Do they think the boxes are going to spontaneously combust, and burn the rest of the house down?
Do they think that the boxes are housing a family of large hissing cockroaches that are planning a secret infestation of the living room?
And…..why are they so obsessed about having an empty garage anyway?
Are they hiring the space to a local S&M club for a makeshift sex slave dungeon?
Do they host a clandestine dog/cock fighting club for suburban housewives?
No! They fucking don’t!
In wish they DID have a sex dungeon…..or, an illegal bare knuckle boxing ring…….I’d happily move my boxes to accommodate that.
However…….their garage only houses two tiny recycling bins, a couple of ladders, some knackered old tools and the boiler.
I have this mental image of my dad, lying awake at 2am…..just constantly mithering, and losing sleep about my boxes…..and, the 2m of space they take up…….it must be tearing him up inside, to know I’m sitting at home……box free…..laughing heartily at my evil plan to fuck his empty garage up!
It’s the same with the loft……it’s a constant source of stress for them, that the loft is still home to my childhood rubber collection (if you’re reading in the U.S, ‘rubbers’ are erasers…..I did not have a collection of condoms as a child).
My rubber collection is housed in a biscuit tin, and an ice cream tub!! Not some fucking heavy wooden treasure chest that could fall through the ceiling and crush them…….
Pity!
pilchardrabies 