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Washing, washing and more washing.
My days are characterized by bottle washing these days. A normal day sees me going through 6-8 cycles of it. Some times, I get lazy and let it pile for a while and the above is one such scenario. Yesterday, I realized that my fingers are starting to peel.. And it is a tad too dry. Ahh.. The perils of over-washing. The price to pay for motherhood. Someone (Jen) asked me.. Are you enjoying motherhood? How is it different? Actually, truth is.. No. I don’t quite enjoy motherhood. I don’t see the joy in it (yet). I miss my carefree life, but I can’t deny maternity leave rocks. I have…
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Bugging me at the back of my mind.
If there is ever a reason that I want my confinement to end like right now, it’s my bathroom. I.can’t.wait.to.give.it.a.good.scrub. It’s depressing. Seeing the gaps between the tiles turning yellow/brownish, and not being able to do a shit about. (ok, unless I boil tonnes of water and use that to wash the toilet but that’s totally crazy). Well, I could also wear boots and gloves to wash the toilet and scrub it clean but I think I will (1) get hell from my mum and (2) get depressed all over again the next time I bathe. The herbs water that I use to bathe stains my tiles, and of cos..…
