Reality: Bite Me

So this morning we have come from this.

Wild and woolly and breathtaking.

To this.  

The kids helped me carry everything in from the car, but dumped it all right at the front door, making it impossible for me to enter.  I should have just left again.

We came via the city where lucky Mike was dropped at his office for his first day at work.  I hope the plumbing at Boomerang hasn't been damaged by the amount of facial hair he took off this morning.  I had to keep checking the clean shaven, handsome man wearing a suit, sitting next to me in the car and stopping myself from asking him what he'd done with my hairy husband in his board shorts and big hat.

At home, in the fridge, we found this charming little science experiment. 

What happens when  mango spends a week in a fridge, unsupervised and ungladwrapped.  Garnished with choc santa wrapping.  WTF?

Next, I learned the hard way, not to use Icy Poles as ice blocks in the fridge bag.  Unless you want to discover they have melted and escaped to cover your butter and milk in nasty, sticky, sugary gloop.  

Oh how we have fallen. And why did I think they wouldn't melt?  Was it the early hour?  Or am I that stupid all the time?  Don't answer. 

Empty Icy Pole wrappers.  Pathetic.

 And later this afternoon, we all went to the supermarket for what seemed like hours.  More cruel reality. As we trawled the aisles, I received a text from one of our friends who are still up in paradise telling me people had moved into our little beach house.  Feelings of outrage were quickly followed by utter defeat.  There was no going back.

The supermarket.  Heinous place it is. 

We sucked it up, made appointments for hair cuts, eye checks, decided on a school shoe shopping time slot and set up a couple of playdates.

No cheese and crackers, no champs.  Just vege juice, chicken rice paper rolls and sparkling mineral water.

It's not bad really.