Arranging the Deranged

Living with my mother is turning me into a organized, dull, respectable, middle aged auntie. I’m learning to line dance, I try not to drip all over the bathroom floor, I wipe the stove before going to bed and I can’t remember when last I’ve woken up with a hangover. Theo is accustomed to a bit of on chaos so I’m sure he is feeling like a fish out of water as well.

It’s great coming home from work and the supper is cooked and my washing is done and folded and everything is in its place but hell, last weeks excitement was the fact that I accidently left the front door wide open which my mother only discovered when she woke up at 9 o clock by which time she could have been murdered in her bed.

Being organized and making to-do lists does have its plus points. Every morning I go straight to the key rack to find my keys hanging there. I never have to drink black coffee cos there’s always milk in the fridge. I’ve been wearing matching socks, not just the same colour range, I mean a proper actual pair. Awesome. But I miss the chaos. Can this be true? I’m used to functioning in a slight bit of unorganization so it’s hard work competing with my alter ego. I mean, sometimes things tend to fall into place without all this effort anyway. Doing my makeup at work in the reflection of my stapler really doesn’t bother me when I’m late. Come to think of it, nothing bothers me.

Theo is coping well in the new environment. He hasn’t left his under pants wedged between the couch cushions or dumped his spanners in the drying up rack in the kitchen. My mother is fascinated by the jar of pickled eggs he made last week and couldn’t believe it when he whipped up a mushroom quiche on Sunday night at 8 o clock just because he felt like it. She went to bed before he had finished pickling the other 26 packets of mushrooms which we’d bought at a really good price. Luckily we have 2 fridges, one for my moms endless supply of tupperware containers range from big to small, smaller, smallest and leftovers get moved accordingly. The other fridge is full of Theo’s home made lemon pickled atchar, olive tapenade, cured bacon and liquors.
So bottom line, things are working out great living with my mom but I’ll just have to make sure I don’t change from being slightly deranged to very arranged. I’ve lost my clitoris before, but not my personality.

Window Shopping

We’ve moved into my old bedroom, which seemed more spacious during my budding teenage years. Squeezing 2 very full grown adults and meters of computer cabling into the same area is a tight fit. There’s not even space for my vibrator.

After trying over and over to kickstart Theo’s XT which didn’t happen since I didn’t have the “knack” and after viewing a few other bikes, I finally settled on a Suzuki DR 200. It’s a kickstart but you don’t need thunder thighs to get it going. (Bugger the knee, I’ll wear a knee brace or something.) I took it for a spin and it sure is different to my old bike. It’s old and it rattles and shakes and I have to just about sit on top of the tank and there’s no cockpit effort in the front which my old bike had. Theo told me to sit up and lift myself off the seat but I’m too poep scared to stand up on the footpegs. I’m sure I’ll get it after a few more tries.

Theo’s roadbike is also sold now so we have the deposit for a bus. We’ve looked at a few, even viewed a camper but haven’t found the perfect bus yet. It seems a 62 seater bus is the right size or else we’re gonna have to store the Webber (for smoking meat) and Theo’s sausage maker in the shower and his Still and boxes of bottles will have to be stored in the loo. Sounds a bit cramped. Or we could go true African style and load up on the roof. Going under bridges would pose a problem and anyway not our style.

Oh well, the right one will eventually come along, it’s just a matter of time. I’ll breathe a sigh of relief when we do find one and in the meantime there’s enough other things to keep us busy.

Well we move out of our house in 2 weeks. There are boxes stacked everywhere and it might appear as though we are living in chaos, but actually I’m quite organized. Everything’s labeled.

I’ve found a suitable house for Kyro and his college buddies to share. That was a mission. People just aren’t interested in renting their house to 3 young male students. I wonder why. Theo and I are moving in with my mom. By choice. That’s gonna be interesting. My mom is very easy to get along with although she has a totally different cooking style to Theo. He does most of the cooking at home and loves spicy food as well as unusual dishes. He makes his own olives, chorizo sausage, smoked bacon, pancetta, pestos and pickles. My mom on the other hand thinks any cheese other than Gouda is exotic and thinks if she adds a teaspoon of tumeric to her pot she has curry.

Her house reminds me of a show house. Ours is not messy but compared to hers it sure is. Keen to see how that’s gonna play out. I’ll probably join the line dancing class she gives on Monday evenings. Woopee. Oh well, I’ll enjoy the bonding.

Hill Billy Style

Theo’s booze concoction has been bubbling away in the spare room for what seems like ages now. He intends making his own triple distilled Vodka (us locals call it Witblitz) and soaking fruit in it or making liqueurs to “trade” with it. In the past he’s made really good rose petal wine and some apple cider of note. Anyway the stuff in the bucket did the ama-glug-glug as it fermented. He tried a shortcut and stuck the bucket on the back seat of our car in the driveway to catch a bit of the winter sun. Well, as things happen, he popped down to the shops later that day. The bucket tipped over, a little drizzled out of the funny curly pipe thing on top and left a hectic klunk in the car. I left the windows and doors of the car open that night in the garage to air it but the snails took it as an invite and had a party on the back seat so now I’ve got a klunk and snail trails to get rid of before we can sell the car. Anyway, back to the booze making.

Eventually it was time to try out the still. Theo built it from instructions on the internet and got someone to do the braising. He bought a hydrometer to measure the sugar content and spent the evening in the backyard watching the temperature of the stuff as it dripped through the still. The first cupful got dumped since apparently it’s lethal and the last bit gets recycled. We ended up with a jarful of kickarse proof booze. Theo made the most divine, creamed liqueurs which didn’t take long to polish off. The Death by Chocolate one was definitely a killer if you’re watching your figure.

The next trial run Theo plans to get walnuts to make Frangelica but it takes a whole month for the nuts and booze to blend to the right taste so ho hum, I’ll have to patiently wait for the next guinea pig session. Dam, life’s a bitch.

Pacing Myself

Well things are happening. Sporadically. Some days I feel as though we are on top of things and other times a whole week goes by and I don’t see any progress.

Theo has been going in circles with the dam wind generator. He’s built a sample one to scale from instructions on the internet. He has cut the blades out of PVC piping, attached them to a disk which is attached to the end of a pole and there’s a motor stuck on as well. It spins like mad in the wind but it pumps out 1 amp so it’s back to the drawing board. Unfortunately his knowledge of electricity doesn’t cut it but he’s made a few trips to the helpful people at Outdoor Warehouse and he scans the internet about volts and watts and amps. It’s become clear that I won’t be able to use my hairdryer on the bus since it uses 2000W. No biggie - I’ll miss the coffee peculator much more and I’m looking forward to lots of braai’s and outdoor cooking.

I seem to be doing the paperwork and phone call side of things which I can do at work while Theo does the more hands on type of stuff.

My priority is to find a house for Kyro, our son, and his college buddies. I spend my time on the phone to estate agents and to people who are interested in buying our unwanted stuff. Evenings are filled with packing stuff which is sorted and labeled “bus” or “mom’s house” or “Kyro’s house”. No time for partying. I still haven’t found a bike for myself yet and Theo’s bike still isn’t sold.

Oh well, one day at a time.