tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-38599606360393108882011-11-27T15:56:45.456-08:00Constancehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10880644397952173670noreply@blogger.comBlogger11100tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3859960636039310888.post-80663082335895936492011-01-02T19:30:00.000-08:002011-01-02T19:30:45.312-08:00Its 7.45 am, the 3rd of January, I slide the bag of poo down the bench and begin to make my soy chia latte. Next comes&nbsp;the&nbsp;suspicious&nbsp;demise of my husbands snoring and like a swift ninja I do an impressive spin and with my left foot I flick the bag of poo into the bin with record speed just in time to present a poo free bench to my rousing husband.<br />Why the poo bag? Why the leg flick?..<br />At 7.30am this morning my angelic 1 and a half year old laid a perfectly round nugget on my bathroom floor, after doting on it for a minute and congratulating her talents I cleaned it up, thus scooping it in a plastic bag and leaving that bag on the only bench in my 2 bedroom unit that happens to be my kitchen bench.<br />At risk of being labled 'unhygienic' for the millionth time in my relationship by my obsessive compulsive husband I ninja flicked away the poo.<br />I am in a constant state of war against my husband, he just doesn't know about it. He is completely oblivious to the amount of energy that goes into preparing every room before he graces himself with it. Whats even more of an art? Managing to look natural upon his arrival.<br />&nbsp;I have become a ninja, gliding from bench top to bed, hiding boxer shorts that may have been used to blow my nose, washing JAG socks that were closer then the nappi-wipes, reimbursing bottles of scotch with cold tea until pay day, I hide silently on the back of doors waiting for him to pass the hall way as I summersault into the bathroom and sweep up the pubic trimmings I left on the floor only to be sitting at my laptop happily flicking through facebook within the 23 seconds it takes for him to return.<br />Its 7.50am, he speaks...<br />"Good morning love, place looks clean, how are you?"<br />"Fine baby, just having some tea, I'll make you some" xxxxxxx<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3859960636039310888-8066308233589593649?l=constancediary.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Constancehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10880644397952173670noreply@blogger.com0