Life

Diary of a demented home worker: What I really want this Christmas

December 19th, 2021 6:25 PM

By Emma Connolly

Please Santa all I really want this year is loads of botox, a clean car and someone to take that freaky elf out of my house before I crack up!

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Diary of a demented home worker It’s week 93 and it doesn’t really matter if I’ve been naughty or nice this year, either way I reckon I’ll still probably end up with a hair voucher or a new saucepan

• WHAT age you are is probably a good indicator of what you expect from your Christmas presents. If you’re a kid, there’s going to be a lot riding on the aspect of receiving at this time of year, and rightly so. I mean you haven’t been good all year (or for a week in December) for nothing, right? Forget quality, it’s all about quantity too. Basically you just want loads of shiny new stuff.  Some of my standout childhood Santa gifts include a Charlie’s Angels hairdryer and poster (the first was broken and the second was ripped by my younger brother before it was even dinner time, I still throw it at him from time-to-time); a Fisher Price tape recorder, an actual Bosco box (seriously!), and Sindy’s doll house (she’s was Barbie’s precursor, and in my opinion, far more elegant and wholesome). The absolute joy they each delivered was epic.

• Of course as I got older it became more about the bling, and well, basically Brown Thomas. And nothing said ‘you’re special to me’ more than if the person queued for an hour to get the gift professionally wrapped in-store in the signature paper and ribbons (were we mad? Or did we just have a lot of time on our hands? Can we blame it on the Celtic Tiger? It was fabulous though, wasn’t it?)

• Now unfortunately, I’m acutely aware of the state of the planet, the state of our finances, and our lack of storage when it comes to asking for things, which basically knocks the fun out of it entirely and explains why I mostly end up with either a new saucepan or a hair voucher. Sure how bad. Yeah. But if anyone’s remotely wondering, here’s what what I want, (what I really, really want) this year ….

• Starting with something pretty basic, I’d really like someone to come and finish putting up my Christmas decorations. I was more or less done around a week ago, but now I just can’t seem to muster up the energy to finish the job off. I’d also love someone to clean my oven (and maybe my fridge? Is that pushing it?) and to take that flipping elf with them when they’re leaving. How many more sleeps before she hits the road again?

• What else? Oh yes, botox. Loads of it. 25-year-old me was quite convinced she’d never resort to such a thing; the same for 36-year-old me. Silly old me! Sure the ageing process hadn’t even kicked in by then. 45-year-old me wants anyone with any sort of a letter after their name, to jab me. And not just my face either, but my hands and my feet, maybe my back too, everywhere. Jab away! Also what’s the story with fillers? I’m thinking, sure I might as well?

• Back to basics, I’d also really like a professional car valet. For some people a day at the spa or a holiday can bring on feelings of intense relaxation and calm. For me, it’s a clean car. And a bit like giving yourself a home facial, doing the job yourself is pretty much a waste of time. Some things are best left to the professionals. Even if it just stays clean for a day, that will be 24 hours of bliss, because as we all know there’s nothing more guaranteed to bring on an epic car vomit than a valet.

• I’d also really love if someone could do a pre-Christmas purge on the playroom, before Santa comes. It’s an impossible task as I’m faced with a sea of what to me look like random bits of string, shells, stones, scraps of paper, twigs and sweet wrappers, but which the five-year-old reverently refers to as ‘my collection.’ So it’s like playing Russian Roulette with my life basically trying to figure out what she won’t miss, and what she’ll enquire about some random Monday night in mid-January, three minutes from bedtime. We’ve all been there, when they go: ‘Where’s that stone/string/shell/piece of paper that is so precious to me and that I absolutely can’t live without and that I definitely can’t sleep without?’ And your blood runs cold as you still vividly remember that satisfying feeling you got tipping it into the recycling bin. Maybe I should just ask for some more storage boxes instead?Yes more boxes (but no more baskets, I’m very much over the baskets).

• Going from the practical to the impossible, what I’d really love is more time. I know we all have the same 24 hours in the day but I’m certain my clocks tick just that bit faster. Either that or I’m just doing something wrong as I never seem to have enough. I’m pretty certain if I had 27 hours in the day I’d get everything done, and also manage a decent night’s sleep, and possibly even a few meaningful conversations every now and then. And if more time isn’t an option, imagine how glorious it would be to make it stand still, even for a day or two, even every second month. That way I might even get the rest of the decorations up, but probably not the oven cleaned.

• And, in no particular order, here’s what I don’t want: Omicron or any strand of Covid, same for face masks (I have them coming out my ears) or bottles of sanitiser. I’m tripping over them. I would probably take a few antigen tests if they’re going alright though, especially after Professor Luke spoke out so strongly about them this week. A home test showed he had Covid within minutes, he said. He also said he felt the over 40s have a ‘slight vulnerability’ and he’d press for getting us boosted as soon as possible. So to be honest, that’s all I really, really wanted (zigazig ah). And guess what? I got called for an appointment next week. I’d still like the hair voucher though.

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