THEY are all in secondary school now, all I have left is the dog and but for one small matter, everything would be perfect. This minute blot on my newly extended horizon is nothing more than the fact that my children have returned to school without so much as a single schoolbook.
Yes, I am part of that contingent that has been left without as much as a thesaurus to consult to express my frustration. I refuse to vent however because to do so would compromise my sanity and that of those around me, so I am left with no choice but to swallow the frustration along with a dollop of humble pie. In the past, I would have been an enthusiastic supporter of ordering online from a certain organisation, endlessly extolling the virtues of same-said facility and failing, without really trying to hide my pity for those who remained loyal to the age old tradition of waiting in line. I marvelled at my aptitude for technology and my simultaneous evollution with the times.
However, I am now silent on the subject, viewing those clever so-so's snaking into book stores as the cute ' hoors' who knew better all along.
The fact that my children haven't yet erupted with exasperation is both commendable and worrying. Commendable in that they accept the situation as one of those 'out of our control' scenarios and worrying in that they are not appreciating the impact that the lack of textbooks might have on their long-term prospects.
Speaking of long-term prospects, I had expected my own to come to full fruition this very September - no drop-offs, no pickups, oodles of time - my days of freedom were mapped out. Instead, however, I am more housebound than ever casing every white van (coloured ones too) that darken my doorstep as a potential carrier of schoolbooks. For the times when necessity dictates that I leave the house, my system of detailed notes plastered to the front door for the man with the van would give Twitter a run for its money in documenting my daily activities eg. in the shower - please leave books; gone shopping - please leave books. Such is my obsession now I have been known to race from the house half-dressed as I try to catch a retreating van with every conviction that I didn't hear them when they called.
In one such dart, I very nearly brought the dog kennel with me. Training the dog to use the bloody thing is as futile as getting the book people on the phone. It might have to do with the resident stray cat taking ownership of it. So there I am perched in a dog kennel coaxing the dog in whilst trying to oust the cat out when I hear the distant doorbell. The dog, the cat and I go mad with excitement as we try to scramble en masse out of the dog kennel.
I may have swallowed my frustration but I said nothing about concealing my desperation.