Have you ever declared war in your house but not told anyone?
Something suddenly just sends you over the edge!
The sweet papers left on the couch.
The shoes they stepped out of.
The coat that they dropped.
The dirty plates left anywhere,
except the dishwasher!
You pick them up every day,
and ask yourself the question,
Why did they leave them there?
and why the hell are you always the one putting them away?
What is it that allows everyone litter in the house but not outside?
Of all the above,
the one that drives me insane,
is the dirty dishes,
left in every room.
My daughter was a serial offender,
regularly leaving plates,
with half eaten mess on them lying around.
One morning I was going from room to room,
filling the dishwasher with cups and glasses,
when I “discovered” a plate of half eaten spaghetti!
Even moments after serving it,
my spaghetti does not look appetising,
but a day later in the sitting room!
I picked up the plate to do what I usually do,
and then I felt it.
That rage I have been known to experience occasionally.
I did not sign up for this!
I went to my daughters room,
and left the plate on her pillow.
Later that night when she discovered what I had done,
she could not understand it.
Why would I go all he way to her room,
when the kitchen was nearer?
She just didn’t get the joy it brought me.
And when she saw it that night and roared
“Mum!” my joy increased 100%..
However I digress.
Back to my strike.
Every time I find some item,
thrown or dropped where it should not be,
I put it on the stairs.
I do this as I think that the owner will pass it,
see it and bring it to its correct place in their bedroom.
I have been doing this for many many years.
It has only dawned on me recently that this system does not work!
One day last week I had enough.
I would leave all belongings on the stairs.
I would not bring anything up to the bedrooms.
Without notice, I went on strike!
Did this lead to chaos in our home?
Were they all rushing to tidy away their things?
Not one person even noticed!
Day after day the pile of goods left on the stairs grew.
Lots of shoes, hoodies, books, socks, bags.
In the past when I placed a “lost” item on the stairs,
I would usually leave it on the right hand side.
After two days of strike,
the right hand side had reached capacity,
I now had to expand to the left hand side.
Soon there was only a tiny gap on the stair,
through which to pass,
And still no comment!
I moved to the next stair up.
Soon it too was full.
I couldn’t believe it.
Up and down the now hazardous stairs they went.
holding the railings in order to safely descend.
Yet not a word of wonder from anyone!
Eventually on day seven I snapped.
I had just witnessed my husband,
lift my youngest down the treacherous stairs!
I gathered everyone into the hall.
“Look”, I roared, “at the state of the stairs”.
They all dutifully looked.
It really was a sight to behold at this point.
Like a jumble sale stall.
They looked at me
Then they looked at each other.
“I am sick of putting away all your stuff”,
“I have been on strike for seven days!”.
There was silence.
Eventually my husband said,
in a puzzled tone,
“You should have just told us”.
They all nodded in agreement.
Then my eldest asked,
“Is that it?”.
I said “Yes”
They all began to walk away.
“Hey”, I said “What about your stuff?”.
They answered en mass,
“We’ll put it away later!”.