The Neverending Story

So, for those of you who have actually seen the movies, you now have the awesome theme song stuck in your head. Although probably just the chorus. Most people just remember it as "the Neverending Storyyyyyyyyyyyy, la la la la la" or something along those lines. But the actual reason for this post is not to revive interest in the epic 80's fantasy, it is to talk about another neverending story. One which every married couple has to face almost daily:

Yes, laundry! It seems that no matter how often we do our laundry, it magically doubles during the night. Before going to bed we drop the clothes we wore during the day into the laundry basket, and the next morning it will seem like it is suddenly overflowing. Even our washing machine must be wondering "What the hell are these people doing? How many outfits can they possibly wear?!" Last night, while looking at our laundry basket, which was doing a pretty good Leaning Tower of Pisa impersonation due to the fact that its structural integrity is failing somewhat at the bottom, I thought to myself "Now I know why people become nudists." It's not being one with nature, or returning to the days of the Garden of Eden. Nope, I am firmly convinced that nudists are people who got fed up with doing laundry. And they are actually very smart in this regard, to them doing laundry is simply taking a shower, and voila! Now I'm not saying that I'll actually turn to the nudist lifestyle, but I do think they are on to something.

Maybe one day someone will invent a laundry basket that actually washes your clothes when you put it in. Imagine that! Dirty clothes go in, washed, ironed clothes, smelling faintly of Sta-Soft come out. But until that day, I will walk around with a very catchy 80's film theme song stuck in my head every time I approach our laundry basket......

FEVER!!!

It has officially hit my lovely companion and me. Baby fever! We are just buying everything cute in sight! If it has even the remotest possibility of being cute and cuddly, chances are we are suckers for it. We have so many baby blankets, baby clothing, soft toys, books and other miscellaneous baby accessories we don't know where to store it all! But then, when the baby is actually born, I can almost guarantee you it will be like this:

No-one will be able to resist our baby, or even be allowed to try to resist! Yes, yes, I realise that I will probably be stalking people with our baby, telling them to look at it. This is the point where people usually tell me to calm down, but I have new daddy fever, and will probably continue to have it, up until the point where I haven't slept in 3 months, then it might cool down slightly. But for now I am enjoying the experience. The day my lovely companion gives birth, I will be doing the following:

The theatre doors will open, and I will be walking out holding our baby high for the world to see while "The Circle of Life" plays majestically in the background. World, be warned, it is almost time!

Madness? THIS IS SPARTA!!!!

Well, okay, maybe not Sparta. But the madness is just as real! Not too long ago my lovely companion and I went grocery shopping. This is an activity that baffles me every time I accompany her. Not because I don't know how everything works, but the way our fellow shoppers go about their business. They will minutely inspect each item they buy, often conferring with a fellow shopper for long periods of time and blocking your access to that section of the aisle. On this particular trip, two ladies were having a deep conversation about a jar of gherkins. Now I'm sorry, I can understand a lengthy discussion about purchasing a new car, or a house, or a puppy, but not a jar of gherkins! You don't have to phone a friend, ask the audience or go 50/50, it's a jar of gherkins! Then you get the two shoppers who appear to know one another and haven't seen each other for "years and years" and then catch up on all the lost time in the middle of the pasta aisle. At times like this I honestly feel like shouting "AHOOH!" three times and just rushing forward and ramming them out of the way. (For those who have no idea what I'm on about, watch 300. For those who have watched 300 and still have no idea what I'm talking about, I'm deeply disappointed!) So I'd probably end up looking something like this:

(I realise this isn't the best Photoshop effort ever, but I was trying to make a point, not win any Photoshop prizes!) Then, the worst kind of shopper.......(queue dramatic music).....The Ankle Basher! These shoppers are oblivious to their surroundings, and to the damage that their little wheeled basket of death can do. Many a time I'd be perusing the wares when there is a bump and a searing pain through my ankle. At those times the conversation goes something like this:

Gets bumped by trolley.....
Me: Ack! Ow (insert expletive here)!
Shopper: Oh, I am so sorry! I didn't see you!
What I think: I'm 6 feet tall and have shoulders the size of a cement truck! How the hell could you not see me!
What I say: Oh, that's alright! Hee hee! I almost didn't feel it!
Shopper: Okay, great! Well sorry again!
Me: Not a problem!

Limps away thinking "Ow, ow, ow, sonofabitch, ow ow!"

I think I can definitely say that women are the superior sex when it comes to shopping. Men have no clue! And let's face it, most men are not built for shopping. Women are small and agile, like arrows flying through the air. Men were always intended as battering rams, so we don't work well in small confined spaces. Score another one for the girls!