Why a 30-hour day would be useful

Since I moved DS to a nursery closer to home, I’ve effectively gained two hours a day: two hours I now no longer spend sitting in traffic. I’d thought that this would enable me to get loads more done – more work, more hobbies, some sport. You know: print out all the digital photos, put them in albums, get up to date on the kids’ scrapbooks, do a comprehensive wardrobe edit, take dance classes, go riding, ice-skating, get my pilot’s license, finish the novel, get a book deal… all those things.

But no. Like most Housewives, I still run from task to task throughout the day, my unpedicured feet barely hitting the ground as I keep all the plates spinning in the air.

Oui, oui - c'est moi. I particularly like the hair.

So, what is it that’s eating at my time? I decided to take stock. I work three mornings a week; the two mornings that I’m “off” only equate to six hours in total or, if you’re talking shop hours, four, as nothing opens before 10am and I have to pick up DS by 12pm.

In my four hours a week I’m doing a few house projects. Obviously there’s the ongoing business of the sofa, which on a ‘time equals money’ basis is proving to be very expensive.

To match the new sofa, I’m putting down new flooring in the family room. I’m also trying to choose new flooring for the rest of the house (another year living with Emaar beige ceramic tiles and grey grouting could quite possibly drive me to insanity). I’ve ordered plantation shutters for the bedrooms. I’m trying to get ceiling fans both bought and fixed in several rooms. None of these things are easy; each requires multiple trips to the other side of the Moon; conversations in Gibberish; and a degree in patience.

Oh, and then the water heater in the bedroom started leaking. Just a steady drip-drip. I ignored it for a few days (it’s in the shower, after all – how much damage can a leak in the shower do?), then Gerlie mentioned it and I felt I had to get it sorted before it bursts in the middle of the night, sweeping the sleeping children away in a tsunami of scalding hot water. So that meant getting the plumbers round. Twice.

I won’t even start on the saga of the kitchen, which it turns out was done wrongly in January and is about to be scraped back to basics and resprayed from scratch…

On reflection, maybe I’m fitting quite a lot into my four hours a week.

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