The oven in this house is one of those fancy 900 wide ovens. It looks really great and does lots of clever things like air defrosting. It has one major flaw though. Whilst it is lovely and wide, it's bloody short. FFS.
It's so short that if I'm cooking a roast my roasting pot only just fits. FFS.
This means that we can't have roast meat and roast veggies on the same night. FFS.
After not attempting to kill my child for a few months now, I've been having a red hot go of it lately. FFS.
Thanks to my baby brain I am constantly forgetting to strap him into his car seat. FFS.
When I say constantly, I mean every second car trip! FFS.
It's got to the point where I have a sticky note on the dashboard reminding me to strap him in. FFS.
Heaven knows what I'll be like when the new baby is here and I'm sleep deprived along with everything else! FFS.
I'll probably need constant supervision to ensure I don't accidentally kill the poor little man. FFS.
Speaking of baby brain, it struck again this week. FFS.
We'd run out of eggs so I sent Tiger to the supermarket to buy some. He got home and went to put them in the fridge where he discovered a full carton of eggs. FFS.
Turns out I'd bought eggs but when I put them in the fridge I put them in a different position to usual, then forgot about them. FFS.
The next time I went to the fridge for eggs there were none in the usual position, so I thought we didn't have any. FFS.
I have no recollection of buying the eggs. FFS.
We now have two dozen eggs to use up. FFS.
So after last week's stunt where Mum tried to make my brother and I event planners, the story gets better. FFS.
Not only did she try and force my brother and I to organize something, she also landed my brother in the crap. FFS.
She rang my SIL and asked her if my bro had told her about the weekend. When my SIL said that she knew nothing about it Mum told her that we were having a get together. Naturally my SIL was then annoyed with my bro for not telling her about it! FFS.
And after all that we had to cancel it because my SIL and nephew were both sick. FFS.
Bloody mothers, causing disharmony everywhere! FFS.
We are still house hunting. FFS.
Tiger has decided that it's urgent we find a house to buy. He thinks that it'll take around 2 months for settlement etc so we need to get moving now, so that we don't "miss out" on the perfect house. FFS.
I've told him if we miss out on a house then it's clearly not the right house for us, but he doesn't agree with me. FFS.
Even if we did find the perfect house we'd still have at least six months left on our lease and no-one is going to rent a house that's for sale, so we'd be stuck paying rent and a mortgage, which we can't afford. FFS.
I've explained this to him several times but he just doesn't get it. FFS.
Monday was my 40th birthday. Chai hadn't slept well the night before so was sleeping in our bed. He tossed and turned all night, which meant that none of us got much sleep. FFS.
He woke up happy and ready to play at 6.15am, then spewed all over me and the bed. Welcome to 40. FFS.
After I'd cleaned myself up, Tiger had cleaned up Chai and I'd cleaned up the bed, I was finally laying in bed again when Chai whacked me in the head with his toy motorbike. FFS.
So far 40 was not looking like much fun. FFS.
Then Chai stood up and pointed to his nappy and I realised that he'd leaked out of his nappy and had wee all over his pants. FFS.
I gave up and got out of bed. FFS.
There went any hope I had of a nice lie in and breakfast in bed. Yep, welcome to 40. FFS.
Instead I put the washing on. Fun. FFS.
Mum didn't even bother calling me to wish me happy birthday. FFS.
She doesn't celebrate birthdays (for religious reasons), however she will usually call me to acknowledge the day, she just won't say happy birthday. This year she didn't even bother. FFS.
Clearly acknowledging your daughters 40th is not important. FFS.
She rang me a few days after my birthday and midway through the conversation said "oh, you're my 40 year old daughter". That's it. FFS.
Then she informed me that she would probably be coming down this weekend. FFS.
No asking if I was busy or if that was okay, just told me she might be coming and she'd let me know. FFS.
I couldn't be bothered arguing with her. FFS.
Whilst we're talking about family, BIL has no idea about babies etc. Tiger was talking to him on Monday night when he asked Tiger to "find out when the baby is going to be born and I'll come over to visit for a few weeks." FFS.
I'm not sure how he expects us to "find out when the baby is going to be born." Maybe he thinks we should ask it when it's planning to make it's grand entrance into the world. FFS.
Tiger and I both agree that the last thing we need when we have a newborn is a house guest. FFS.
Naturally, telling BIL this is going to cause all sorts of dramas, he'll spit the dummy and probably won't talk to us for a few weeks, it's ridiculous. FFS.
He'll then rant on about how I don't let him bond with his nephew and it's all our fault that he decided to leave the state. FFS.
The trouble is, we don't know when hubby will be going back to work so we can't even give BIL dates when it'll be okay for him to visit. FFS.
As much as I am loving living in the country, it also has it's bad points. One of the joys of living in the country is that the power here goes out all the time. FFS.
It regularly flashes on and off. FFS.
When I say regularly I mean at least once a week. FFS.
Every time it does I have to reset all the clocks, the fetch tv and the hot water system. FFS.
Tuesday night the power flashed off and I forgot to turn the hot water system back on. I discovered this when I went to put Chai in the bath. FFS.
It took fifteen minutes for the water to heat up. FFS.
Yesterday I got it into my head that it'd be a good idea to weed the garden. FFS.
Not really sure why I thought that considering I have trouble getting on and off the ground thanks to my belly, however I gave it a good go. After five minutes I was having lots of braxton hicks contractions so had to give up and rest on the lounge suite for 1/2 an hour. FFS.
After behaving decently for a few weeks, the estate agency handling the sale of our property have shown their true colours. FFS.
I got the following letter from them yesterday:
Two weeks ago the agent told us he only wanted to show people through every five to six weeks and that he wouldn't be having home opens, turns out that was a lie. FFS.
We made it very clear when we met him that we would not vacate the house for him to show people through and yet he still asks us to leave the house. Again, nice try. FFS.
He also took a whole lot of photos when he was here two weeks ago, so I don't see why they need to take more. FFS.
I am not at all comfortable with them having a video tour of the house on the internet, I didn't allow it when we were selling our own home and I don't want it to happen with this house. FFS.
As for telling me I have to keep the house tidy and well maintained, he can go jump in front of a fast moving truck. The maintenance of the house is the responsibility of the owner, so if he has a problem with that he needs to speak to them not me. The only person who can tell me what state I have to keep the house in is my property manager. FFS.
Tiger spoke to the agent last night and told him that he can't come through the house on that day as it's not convenient and that he'll need to arrange another time to come through. Not FFS.
Twitter just suggested I follow a funeral director. Seriously. FFS.
That, ladies and gentlemen, is the end of my weekly whinge. If you'd like to read what others are whinging about, head over to Sarah's blog and take a look.