Domestic Life Agrees With Me
We may not have the most posh flat in the UK. I may not be the best cook there is. I may not quite have the knack of those nasty little household spells. My figure certainly leaves something to be desired. I've become, if possible, even paler for lack of going outside.
But. I'm. Happy.
That's right. I am living in a state of perpetual bliss. I keep getting bigger and bigger, but that just tells me that my baby is healthy and growing. Ted comes home tired and cranky, but he's making a good, steady salary for us. Ted's mum has to coach me daily on Muggle cooking (because Merlin knows there's nobody around to teach me the magical kind!), but last night I produced the first batch of biscuits that couldn't be used as assault weapons (half the batch should be arriving soon for you to share, Alice and Em). I was so proud I nearly cried.
Housekeeping... er... Well, I'm learning. I got a wonderful book from the Lending Library called "A Witch's Practical Guide to Household Spells." It's never far from reach. Merlin knows I try, but the spells never seem to work out just right. This morning I was using one that was meant to sort and fold the laundry, which it did sure enough, but it mismatched all the socks, and turned the trousers inside out before folding them! I tried to explain to Ted that if I refolded his trousers by hand, they would be right side in, but would surely have creases in all the wrong places, but I somehow feel he was unimpressed.
The spell to expunge dust bunnies somehow produced a family of the real thing, which are now hopping about the flat, nibbling on the upholstery. The spell to turn the bunnies back into dust only produced an extra layer of dust over everything, leaving the bunnies untouched. The spell to scrub a pot apparently needed a stopping point specified. I neglected to add that bit, and the darn thing scrubbed a hole right through the bottom! I begin to wonder if this is, in fact, a book of actual household spells, or whether it isn't rather a joke book produced by some unscrupulous author. I can't be making every spell backfire, can I?
Ted has had the most darling and selfless idea - he wants to bring mistreated House-Elves home and raise them as our own children. I wonder if he would be opposed to having them help me with some of the household duties? After all, many Muggle children help with... I believe they're called "choirs" around the house... don't they?
But. I'm. Happy.
That's right. I am living in a state of perpetual bliss. I keep getting bigger and bigger, but that just tells me that my baby is healthy and growing. Ted comes home tired and cranky, but he's making a good, steady salary for us. Ted's mum has to coach me daily on Muggle cooking (because Merlin knows there's nobody around to teach me the magical kind!), but last night I produced the first batch of biscuits that couldn't be used as assault weapons (half the batch should be arriving soon for you to share, Alice and Em). I was so proud I nearly cried.
Housekeeping... er... Well, I'm learning. I got a wonderful book from the Lending Library called "A Witch's Practical Guide to Household Spells." It's never far from reach. Merlin knows I try, but the spells never seem to work out just right. This morning I was using one that was meant to sort and fold the laundry, which it did sure enough, but it mismatched all the socks, and turned the trousers inside out before folding them! I tried to explain to Ted that if I refolded his trousers by hand, they would be right side in, but would surely have creases in all the wrong places, but I somehow feel he was unimpressed.
The spell to expunge dust bunnies somehow produced a family of the real thing, which are now hopping about the flat, nibbling on the upholstery. The spell to turn the bunnies back into dust only produced an extra layer of dust over everything, leaving the bunnies untouched. The spell to scrub a pot apparently needed a stopping point specified. I neglected to add that bit, and the darn thing scrubbed a hole right through the bottom! I begin to wonder if this is, in fact, a book of actual household spells, or whether it isn't rather a joke book produced by some unscrupulous author. I can't be making every spell backfire, can I?
Ted has had the most darling and selfless idea - he wants to bring mistreated House-Elves home and raise them as our own children. I wonder if he would be opposed to having them help me with some of the household duties? After all, many Muggle children help with... I believe they're called "choirs" around the house... don't they?