You may think that being a Domestic Disgrace means I shy away from having people round for dinner. It did, until I came up with a cunning plan. It’s genius, even if I do say so myself. I don’t cook, yet people go away thinking I’m some sort of culinary guru. Continue reading
I really am domestically challenged. My Mother-In-Law despairs of me and reminds me of this on a regular basis. The other day my friend told me she had chutney on the stove, with a smile on her face, knowing this was a completely alien concept to me. I told her ”Just you wait…by the end of the year, I’ll be making chutney of my own.” Even her son laughed. You see, I’m known around these parts for my domestic inadequacies. Continue reading
My heart sinks whenever I make arrangements with someone and the deal is that I pick them up in my car. I always have to explain that my car is messy. This is usually met with sympathetic protests about how their car is untidy too. I smile a grateful smile, but at the back of my mind I know. Their car really isn’t going to be as messy as mine, or as stinky for that matter. Continue reading
There’s something special about the first post on a new blog. It has the same feel as opening a new English book at primary school- clean, unspoilt and the potential for great things. Well, this is clean and unspoilt but the potential for great things is debatable.
This blog is more about a journey. I really am a domestic disgrace. I can’t cook, I use wonder web to stick on Brownie badges and I only clear out my car when we can’t fit in it any longer. But I’m on a mission; a mission to change. I want to learn how to cook, have an organized home and maybe learn to sew (but let’s not get ahead of ourselves here…) I’m sending myself to Domestic Rehab. Continue reading