I think I am going a bit wappy. This may be a shock to some readers as it would appear that actually I achieved this status sometime ago.
However, as with my ongoing status of the ‘World’s Most Embarrassing Mother’, I never actually escape being within the bracket of wappiness, it is purely the depth and severity of my wappiness that varies.
Yes, the weathervane of teenage attitude and the depth of my happiness are in a state of constant fluctuation with no apparent correlation between the two.
The source of my recent descent lower into the pit of wappiness may be related to my sojourn in the land of sand or perhaps as a result of the constant rollercoaster of living with The Strawberry Hand Grenade, (TSBHG), but whatever the reason my level of questionable sanity is beyond argument.
The ongoing arctic temperatures in the house may have some bearing on this matter, as I write I am sat shivering in my Berghaus fleece and wooly socks while himself is sat by my side in a t-shirt and shorts and whinging about the heat.
I am reassured that I am in fact relatively justified in my attire as TSBHG is ruled up under a duvet in close proximity.
I am wondering if my brain has been frozen into a state of senility.
The Small Testosterone Filled One, (TSTFO), is not here to use as a gauge, (although I am sure that as he takes after his father he too would be sat in minimal attire), as he has gone out with a buddy and was last heard of playing with copious amounts of lego at his house.
Now, my state of wappiness could manifest itself via many ways and I could be found to be walking around with a pair of boxers on my head to ward off evil bad hair day spirits, howling at the moon or even arguing with myself about which would be a preferable reason for deportation from the land of sand – camel rustling or driving a car around Riyadh with Metallica blaring out of the stereo and throwing empty vodka bottles out of the window.
But no, despite sitting and drawing up lists of signs and symptoms of insanity to cross check against my own behaviour, (a somewhat loaded practise the results of which could be discounted under the circumstances), the main signs and symptoms of my deterioration have taken other forms.
Some readers may recall previous posts about various extra members of the immediate EIOT family.
Yes, I have in the past made mention of Justin Beaver and Muffy The Marmot.
It doesn’t take a lot to work out where Justin’s name comes from.
These small, fluffy creatures are in theory cuddly toys but they have become more than that over the years and are now firmly part of the fixtures and fittings both at EIOT Towers and here in the land of sand.
Now, I am not a big fan of humanising inanimate objects but even I have over the years come to think more of Justin and Muffy as living objects than stuffed toys.
Now, I have managed to keep this apparent animation in perspective and have left any interaction between Muffy, Justin and any other member of the family to a minimum.
However, over recent weeks the posse of animals has grown and we now have several speaking stuffed animals within the family. All with their own particular accents and idiosyncrasies.
We really seem to have become something from an episode of ‘Creature Comforts’
So, the catalogue of animals reads as follows:
Muffy The Marmot
BFB – Big Fluffy Beaver, an exact replica of Justin in his younger days, (he is now quite old and moth-eaten), but twice as big.
There are other peripheral characters, but these are the main players.
Now, these animated beings seem to be playing and increasingly large part in our lives and in particular mine.
It could be argued that actually interaction with the trio could be justified when their owner, TSTFO, is in the near vicinity but more recently I have found myself interacting with them in his absence and actually having full on conversations with them.
This could be classed as me talking to myself and answering myself, or I could personally see it as having conversations with three extra additions to our family.
However, whichever opinion I take both options could be seen as indicative of my wappiness.
The latest manifestation of my perilous state of mind has taken place today and has even set alarm bells ringing in my own head – perhaps if I still have a certain level of clarity left then all cannot be lost??
Yes, in the absence of TSTFO I have taken the opportunity to put Muffy and Justin through the washing machine and tumble-dryer.
Perhaps this in itself suggests a level of acknowledgement of their stuffed toy status as if I was firmly of the opinion that they were animated creatures capable of two-way conversation I would never dream of putting them in the washing machine and tumble dryer, would I?
No, BFB did not head into the spinning world of persil and comfort as he is relatively new to the household and had not reached the stinky state of Justin.
So, Justin and Muffy have with the last half hour emerged from the tumble-dryer, smelling sweetly and without a green haze surrounding them.
Now, most people would take them out of the white appliance and simply install them back from whence they came.
No, on opening the tumble dryer door I found myself engaged in a full conversation with Justin who apparently was not at all impressed about being in the washing machine and dryer followed by a conversation with Muffy about how pleased she was that Justin did not smell anymore.
Justin is now firmly placed on the coffee table, with his back to us all, nose against a vase in a strop over his new-found cleanliness.
Muffy is high on fabric softener and glowing in Justin’s misery.
BFB is completely nonplussed and is busy taking in Harry Potter and The Half-Blood Price with TSBHG.
So, you can see my dilemma.
Amid my life here in the land of sand I find myself tripping gently down towards questionable levels of sanity. In the past the restrictions placed upon ladies have never bothered me, but perhaps now the limitations are taking their toll and I am hurtling towards vague levels of going around the bend.
Perhaps my mystery trip into Riyadh last week with Borat had more of an impact on me that I thought and simply accelerated my slid down the tubes to insanity.
Anyway, a possible bolt for freedom on the part of my sanity may be on the horizon and not too soon.
Yes, as a family we are all heading out of the land of sand on Friday to head over to Wales for a wedding.
Before you ask, yes Justin, Muffy and BFB will be with us.
However, as my last stab at maintaining some sort of equilibrium I am hoping that a trip out of the land of sand may just reinvent my usual levels of sanity – even if they were a tad questionable in the first place.
Aside from all this TSTFO will be home soon and will be very unimpressed that he cleanliness of two of his buddies and I am sure that more discussion springing forth from the posse.
I will of course endeavour not to get involved and certainly not introduce any animal voices with dodgy accents in the style of Johnny Morris.
Accents have never been my strong point and when combined with animal voices then it just means a fast-track to the madhouse.
Right, now that I have unburdened myself with my fear over my fading sanity in the hope that in doing so the decline may at least slow down, best I go and find something to do to occupy my aching mind…..