I hate men. I do! I do! Ido!

I hate men, I do I do I do. They never clear up after themselves and they are so uselessly impractical. Really they are. God in heaven why aren’t women in charge. Life would be so much simpler really it would.

I know not ALL men are like this and yes I know there are exceptions but in a general way men drive me to distraction and I have to deal with three of them in my personal life and God knows how many outside that, I gave up counting years ago. I mean Men are everywhere aren’t they?

Ooooooooohhhhhh!!!!!!!

OK I had better put you in the picture. Today was meant to be a perfect day. I got up at 6am. I sorted the laundry and laid the table, the dogs were let out and fed and I beat the cat to her new morning ritual of peeing on the table cloth by a) not laying the table the night before and b) forcing her into her litter tray to get reacquainted with it this morning (the cat is going senile and we are learning to live with it; just please bear with the smell of cat pee until May when she will be able to go outside for her ablutions). I was feeling pretty good, the boys were up and I even managed a cooked breakfast.

We bundled ourselves into the car and trugged off to school but all was not well. There was a soft whumping sound and the car was slightly off kilter: a puncture.

My thoughts directed themselves at the builders and the fact that they had been playing about with nails and work saws and the like outside the back door where I park my car. They had obviously failed to clear up after themselves!

I whumped home: furious as the morning started to unravel.

Boys placed in front of the TV, I surveyed the problem. I needed to change the tyre. So I looked for the Jack but no there is no Jack in this car because of course the system one is meant to use requires no Jacks. All you have to do is squirt some foam into the tyre and pump it up with a nifty cigarette lighter powered pump. In theory it all works great that is until you realise that you totally destroy the tyre in doing so which can be costly.

Ever looking to save money I had bought a proper spare tyre from the garage that sold the car to me but the blokes there had failed to give me a Jack or even the spanner so I could undo the nuts. That is of course if I could shift the nuts in the first place as they were machined on. Obviously MEN don’t get punctures!

I think the word I issued was F**K and I repeated this quite a few times with the words F*****G MEN attached to it. Luckily the boys were oblivious as they watched Dick & Dom’s Wild Adventure. I scowled at the TV. “I’ll give you wild mate!”

Of course the end of this tale has to be resolved by a man but I won’t go into details. The tyre has been changed, new ones ordered and life is back to normal….though my tail is still twitching….