Mr Fridge : Grass and Poo.

Good Evening Reader,

You read me at the end of a Monday and still working away due to my sheer dedication to the job. While I wait for engineer feedback I shall take this opportunity to update the reader my life.

On Saturday I cut the grass for the first time in my life! I have never done it before and as soon as I had built the cutting machine and learnt, quite quickly, that you should not run it over the power cable or wear open toed shoes (well, my nails needed trimmed) I got to work on the front and rear jungles that are Fridge Manor’s gardens. What a job I did! Like many things you do first time, it was absolutely atrocious but I enjoyed it tremendously. The grass was so long that even of giraffe setting the cutting machine was set to was not overly effective and Mr Fridge had to really run over and over it again: the mover even got so clogged up that I had to continuously stop and pick and scoop out the grass (I had learned to unplug it at this point). After an hour or two I was done and it was the worst looking set of lawns that I had ever seen! The organic recycling bin is full to bursting with cut grass, moss and blood from the cutting machine catcher bucket thing and from my raking. The job was so impressively done that a neighbour asked me if Fridge Junior had given us a rough night and that she had not noticed that we had cut the grass. Cheeky neighbour! She obviously thought I looked exhausted and had not noticed that she could see the front of the house again. I am off to look up the dictionary.

From http://www.thefreedictionary.com/
TACT: 1. Acute sensitivity to what is proper and appropriate in dealing with others, including the ability to speak or act without offending.

Hmmm.

Now the other fun thing that happened is that on Saturday Mrs Fridge and I had Fridge Junior on the play gym, naked as he was born, to allow his little touch of nappy rash to heal. He has been bathed and cleaned and changed and cleaned again, so he was looking so nice and lovely that I picked him up to hug and kiss. In return my loving child peed on me then crapped through my hand and onto my t-shirt and jeans and, well everything. I ended up washing my clothes and showering! Wee thing! How Mrs Fridge laughed. Mr Fridge laughed the next day when he had his first projectile vomit on Mrs Fridge, over her hand, trouser leg, newspaper and new sofa!

That’s my boy!