things you don't want to happen three hours before your 12-year old highly-strung, over-tired daughter has a function at the sofitel

1. THE FUCKING IRON TO LEAK BROWN SHIT ON THE BOTTOM OF HER DRESS WHILE YOU ARE CAREFULLY IRONING ON THE INSIDE AS DIRECTED BY THE LABEL

2. THE STAIN TO NOT COME OUT COMPLETELY

3. THE STAIN TO BE RIGHT IN THE FRONT. I EVEN THOUGHT TO START THE IRONING AT THE BACK, JUST IN CASE.

4. THE DRESS TO BE SILK SO YOU CAN'T TUMBLE DRY IT DRY, EVEN IF YOU HAD A TUMBLE DRYER BUT YOU DON'T BECAUSE YOU HATE THEM AND YOU CARE ABOUT THE ENVIRONMENT

5. THE HAIRDRYER TO NOT WORK. REALLY, IT'S JUST TOO FUCKING WET NOW.

6. FUCKING MELBOURNE "SUMMER" WEATHER TO HAVE BEEN SHITE, AND ESPECIALLY TODAY, WHEN YOU COULD DRY IT IN HALF AN HOUR IF IT WAS HOT AND SUNNY

7. IN FACT, IT'S OVERCAST AND WHILE THERE IS A BIT OF A BREEZE, YOU CAN'T RISK LEAVING IT OUT THERE WHEN YOU GO TO PICK THE KIDS UP FROM SCHOOL BECAUSE

IT

WILL

FUCKING

RAIN.


YOU KNOW IT WILL.

what am i being punished for?
what am i being punished for?
what am i being punished for?
what am i being punished for?
what am i being punished for?
what am i being punished for?
what am i being punished for?
what am i being punished for?
what am i being punished for?



i hate that fucking iron.

this is why i don't iron.

why does the brown shit come out when you have it on a lower setting? ie SILK???????

why doesn't it come out on clokes' business shirts?

i want it to come out on clokes' business shirts because it only happens to me, and i told him we need a new iron, but because it's his, it's "fine".

why does it have to come out on princess' dress?


oooh la la, sunshine is coming out.


meltdown might be nearly over.



* * *

UPDATE'OH.

10.11pm sees me continuing the whinge-fest.

Ok, dress - I got the stains out, and managed to dry the fucker on the clotheshorse in the wind and sunshine between 3 and 5pm. I didn't iron it. The wrinkled look is in.

Then we were to be dropped off at the hotel but the traffic was so bad up St Kilda Rd, we jumped out of the car and onto a tram, then had to run up Collins St.

Made it.

Then I played bag lady at Collins Place. A bit of linguine pasta and a wine at the sports bar type place, a bit of a browse in Dymocks and get this, the salesgirl came up to me as I was browsing and said "This is going to sound a bit weird, but would you be ok for ten minutes while I go to the toilet?"

Me: "Yes, I'll be fine."

And then she went. And locked me in, with another bag lady who looked like a real bag lady.

Then I drifted up to 7-11 and bought a Kit Kat. Then I drifted back, and found a table and did the crossword. Then at 7.25 I went back to the Sofitel lobby, and proceeded to almost doze off while agonising over the last 3 crossword words.

Finally, 30 minutes late, they came down. Then we had to walk down to Swanston St to catch the tram. Then on the tram a smack-head got on, with a lit cigarette and proceeded to piss everyone off by smoking it, especially the woman who was eating a banana, and her over-ripe banana smell had been annoying me, so that's perspective for you. But everyone was too scared to say anything to the dude, including me. Didn't see what happened to the smoke, but he started to nod off, and he was right near us, and people had moved away from him so there was no buffer zone, and then at Domain Interchange, when he stamped his feet and started to get agitated (heroin does that?) I said to Princess "stand up, we're getting off."

Just as we went down the steps I heard a voice yell out "FUCK OFF!!!"

Methinks my gut feeling was right. The tram trundled off, with everyone else captive to his unpredictableness. If I'd been alone, I would have stayed on. Princess doesn't need that, not after the day we've had.

So, we waited at Domain, then got on our tram.

Just as we were about at our stop, it was pissing down heaps. We were laughing about using the newspaper as hats, and I rolled up my jeans, and Princess said "My dress! My HAY-ER!" and I said "Stuff your hair, and don't worry about your dress, I washed it twice, it's ok with water, it's the brown stuff from the iron (and your friend's coke on Tuesday night) that's the problem'o.

Then magically, just as we stepped off the tram, into puddles, the rain had stopped. So we didn't need to take shelter in the Bad English Pub, we managed to walk to our place without getting wet.

What a day. It's been a marathon week, staggering to the finish line. Which is tomorrow.

Can I do West Wing? I think not. Bed and Barack for me.