Status update.

So hell hath come to earth in Australia today.
We are expecting temperatures of 43 degree’s. That’s 109.3
This is only the third time on record temperatures have reached these extremes here.
They are saying that in some areas we are facing “catastrophic fire conditions” – one of the worst days in history for fire danger with these extreme temperatures and gusty winds.
What with the past two summers of extensive rain as you can imagine the undergrowth is extensive, and now like a giant tinderbox.

So that’s the weather report- brought to you by Tracy “obsessed with watching the weather channel” Lundgren.

It’s a week until we anticipate this trip we have planned to fly to the Philippines.
Our eldest daughter is coming home this week – leaving her home in the desert and landing here for a while until she decides what she wants to do with her life. I have no idea what her plans are and neither does she, we think.
Our second eldest daughter is in hospital at the moment, 35 weeks pregnant with unexplained, non related to pregnancy pain that they are investigating.
Our third eldest daughter has a friend staying over, which is good, because I have temporarily lost my walking conscience “I’m bored” shadow.
Our son is slowly disappearing underneath a mop of long greasy hair.
Soon we will be living with Cousin IT.

That’s the family status update.

I said “anticipating” this trip to the Philippines because as usual my husband has left everything to the last minute, including obtaining the kids passports.
Now we face a nail biting week, sweating bullets, waiting for the final stage of passport approval.

That is one of the things that drives me absolutely BONKERS, about my husband.
He’s so bloody slack with organising himself and getting things done!  It drives me nuts!

Last night he threw a hissy fit because at 11 pm he’s rooting through the wardrobe trying to find his belt, to wear with his work pants.
“I don’t know!” I say.
“I am not the keeper of belts in this house.”
(My family seem to think I walk around with a notepad and pen keeping tabs on exactly where all their STUFF is at all times.)

Of course he’s blaming everyone else in the house – somehow. Like we all live to steal his (two) belts because we’re all such avid belt lovers – especially those we’d have to wrap around our waists twice. (Or maybe hang ourselves with – in frustration.)

I was trying to watch a movie but I patiently hit the pause button waiting for the inevitable tantrum that I knew was about to unfold.
Drawers were wrenched open, cupboards were noisily rummaged through, stamping of feet from bedroom to office, office to bedroom…much mutterings and cuss words “I’m so bloody sick of this!……”
“Can’t find anything in this house!……”

Then he says.
“I’m throwing out that entire drawer of socks and undies because I can’t find any matching socks! The whole lot is going in the bin!”

Oooooh. I’m devastated.
Why is he saying this now, while he’s looking for a belt?
Why am I to blame for the missing sock thing? It’s somehow my fault that all the socks in the house go missing?  Like I was put on this planet to track socks.
When I married him I don’t remember saying ” I doth therefore forever vow to be thou sole, forever faithful sock tracker.”

This belt tantrum went on for a good ten minutes until I finally got out of bed, walked to the wardrobe, immediately found the elusive, oh so well hidden belt hanging there on a hanger, took it out and threw it on the carpet while he ranted and tossed things around in his office.
(Men don’t seem to have the “behind concept”. If something is not right there, dangling right before their eyes then it simply doesn’t exist – and someone else needs to find it!)

“Where did that come from?”  (It simply manifested itself.)
“It wasn’t there before!” (No, I’ve been hiding it on my person simply waiting for this opportunity to infuriate you with it’s missing status.”
“I looked in the cupboard!” (No you didn’t. You  stood there with your eyes closed, waved your hands around in a pansy fashion and messed everything up, including MY nice neatly hung up stuff.)
“You must have hung it somewhere different. I always hang it with my pants!”  (Yes dear, my main pass time in life is to hang out in the walk in wardrobe every day thinking up new secret places I can put your belt just to confuse you.)

That’s the “things about husbands that drive me insane” status.

When facebook creepily asks me “How are you feeling today Tracy?” (when did facebook start stalking me?)
I’ll say…”Grumpy and hot!”

I plan to hole up, blinds tightly shut, air conditioner on, doing nothing…not even any sock tracking.

I’m wondering if my husband will even make it home tonight.
The railway tracks might melt.
Fire might break out somewhere between here and Sydney and cause havoc on the train line.
Oh well, at least his pants will stay up.