Friday, 31 March 2017

Real Grownups

Dan and I just got a freezer.

A deep freeze.

An ice chest.

A big square box thingy that sits in our utility room.

We didn't buy the freezer ourselves, rather my in-laws showed up a couple of weeks ago with a big box in the back of their van and announced they had a surprise for us. We discovered that real grownups, aka our parents, would get very shifty and eye-twitchy whenever we announced that we didn't have plans for a freezer.

Fiscally irresponsible was their main point of concern.

Didn't we know we could take advantage of sales, and FREEZE the extras?

Didn't we know we could double our baking recipes, and FREEZE the extras?

Didn't we know we could make freezer meals, and then..err..FREEZE them so weekday dinners would be sorted?

We did know all this, and still thought 'meh'. The freezer that came with our fridge seemed huge compared to the shoebox freezer we used to have in Switzerland. What was the big deal?

Well, apparently our lack of adulting finally got to my in-laws and they showed up with a freezer. We set it all up and stared at it for a couple of weeks. Then I went to the grocery store and was strangely given a free flat of perfectly good strawberries. What to do with all these strawberries?

GASP. The freezer!

So I bagged them all, put them in the freezer, and the next day I checked on them.

Guys...they were frozen.


(PS fake grownups are so tired from taking care of their real kids, this post sounded good in their head and then they typed it out...)

Sunday, 5 March 2017

I'm Not a Maid. I Just Play One in Real Life.

I am so sick of tidying up after my family I could scream!

And I did, right before I jumped on the Internet to jot down the title to this blog post, which made me laugh when I thought of it.

Babies are messy. Four year olds are messy. Swiss husbands claim they are not messy, but then why am I cleaning up 45,784 copies of financial magazines (that he insists must be saved) that are always just lying all over the house, and breeding in our mailbox? Why?! WHY?

I told Dan that I quit, but I don't think he took me seriously since he tossed his magazine to one side, yawned, and asked if I was going to make coffee could I pour him a cup.

This is a problem.

No one seems to fear me.

Must investigate how to be more fearsome, but first I have a whole stack of magazines I need to take to recycling...