Spring – from my garden to you with love.

Avon, pretty please change my life.

If I get that neutral-tone eyeshadow palette with the 8 different neutral colours: The messy kitchen will become gleaming fresh with hardwood floors(of course neither the refrigerator nor the washing machine will ever leak again then) and new tiles, the beds wil straighten themselves, the paint in the livingroom will chip off the wall to reveal the beautiful red brick underneath – magically free of damp – and four neat holes will be ready for four poles ready to be concreted in where I want to put up a screen so that opportunistic thieves stop stealing our hosepipes and washing pegs. No wait. Make that one hole. I’ve already half-dug three. Oh wait, why not have the screen up already? Scrap that, why not have a country where everybody has enough to eat so that people don’t feel the need for stealing other people’s hosepipes or washing pegs or murdering them in their beds for that matter. Still, the screen will look nice.

While we’ve seemingly landed at home-improvements: The old bench we discovered behind the garage will be restored and sitting proudly at one end of that rectangular garden that is still in process but that won’t be in process much longer. Provided I get my Supershock Avon mascara in brown-black.

My three kids will be with me all home-birthed and organically fed. No need to still send the guy putting a gravestone on Loren’s grave an e-mail confirming the wording and order. I will know nothing of oxygen saturation, will not be able to distinguish between hypertonic and hypotonic and I will still be under the mistaken impression that all human beings are seen as equal the moment they enter a doctor’s room. Not that we would ever need a hospital (or a doctor). Stinky collecting places for germ colonies that they are.

Of course the kids will be home-schooled, their bedroom shelves will be put up and their toys will be sorted out. Discipline would be a non-issue as they would want to be well-behaved. Somebody will have already removed the disgusting carpet in the livingroom and the slate tiles will be there in all of their multicolour gloriousness. No, make that a hardwood floor too. Throughout the house. Of course I will have the resolve to prohibit the kids from eating anywhere but the kitchen so that the hardwood floors don’t go the way of that livingroom carpet. Oh wait, that won’t work… there’s hardwood floors in the kitchen too. Maybe the kids would want to eat outside? It stands to reason that the kid’s bedroom blinds I’ve been working on for the past six months will be finished and that my sewing machine will have had that service it hasn’t had since 2005. The kids would actually sleep in their bedroom, by the way.

The russet blush. Now that could possibly be enough to enable me to finish the mosaic of a tree without people congratulating me on my lovely mosaic of a cat. (The story of my artistic life).

Oh yes and the stone-clad flower bed outside the bedrooms that the cats use as a toilet will be concreted and decorated with pebbles so that the bedrooms don’t stink. Not that I blame the cats. I’d use the closest toilet too. The swimming pool will be emptied and patched where it is leaking and the rusty fence repaired and freshly painted.

I will lose the 3 kg I’ve put on through the winter and my legs will be brown, hairless and bump-free. My higher-than-average blood pressure will lower because I will have developed selective blindness and deafness towards assholes. (There’s a limit to what make-up can achieve, after all.) I will also learn to say no. Very important, that one.

Lipstick is the only reason my life isn’t perfect. Clearly it’s because I haven’t found just the right shade that mold grow inside the storage space under the window seats and inside the fridge. (Mold makes for a very interesting biology lesson though.)

So, my quest continues… Watch this space.