Monday 13 August 2012

Dear Future Husband...

The other day, I was put in a situation where I needed to be able to assist with a tyre change. I learnt how to raise the car off the ground, how to (find and) attach the spare tyre, and the importance of having suitable equipment in the car at all times.

This is not my only car-related prowess, as I am fully capable of checking and adding screen wash, oil and coolant. I mean, I can even hear when my engine needs oil now.

In my garden, my housemate is the pretty-ifier, in charge of flowers and pots and pretty things. My job is to cut the grass.


Also, when I went on holiday recently, I discovered I am quite adept at map reading and some navigation. Now, I don't have the innate 'knowledge' my mother does, which enables her to locate and relocate where she is and where she needs to be simply by, I don't know, sniffing the air, or following the earth's gravitational pull or however she does it. I can, however, read (and, incidentally, fold) a map.


All this is fine, and shows I am in some way capable and self-sufficient of sorts, blah blah.


Yesterday, however - guess what I did...



I BARBECUED.




SO, FUTURE HUSBAND...
YOU'D BETTER HURRY UP BEFORE I USURP ALL YOUR ROLES.


(ER, MY KEYPAD IS STUCK ON CAPITALS. I'M NOT BEING THIS SHOUTY REALLY...)