This week was ticking along, not a normal week by any stretch of the imagination a storm wreaked havoc in the city, a birthday in the midst of the storm, the start of school for the year, oh and Ryan Gosling called in for a quickie. Damn, strike that last thing that last thing I’m clearly losing touch with reality.
Then Tuesday morning the world stopped on its axis and did a wee jig before starting up again and leaving Peter unemployed.
I was at the bench making my lunch; the room was in chaos with ironing everywhere and the T.V up loud with Mr Activated Almonds himself telling the Tasmanian team on MKR how much he loved the tartness of their crumble.
Before you make comment on my slovenly housekeeping, dinosaurs were roaming the earth the last time I was at home with no children and it was taking a while for me to get back in the groove. Yes I did just use groove in a sentence. Back to the bench, Pete walked in, sat down and said the four words no stay-at-home-mum wants to hear: “I’ve been made redundant.”
All rational thoughts stopped and were replaced with one question. “How will we survive?” I was already having visions of us lining up at one of the soup kitchens in the city for our nightly meal.
After a couple of sleepless nights we now have a clear plan of the way ahead and are feeling far more positive about the future. One of our friends put it very succinctly when he said “One door slams shut and the draft opens three more.”
Come on draft, do your worst.