Fear Not

Yesterday I promised some clearer thoughts and maybe some new characters after my week away, but still drawing a bit of a blank.

Before mrs househusbandnot and I went away, I was finding the daily output of househusbandnot pretty easy going and knocked them out in an hour or so every day without too much thought. But I'm still stuck here people. Just one piece of objective criticism (see yesterday's post) and I've dried.

I guess I could argue that all I have done since we got back from our holiday is paint floors and therefore don't have much to talk about. But that didn't stop me blathering on about fridges and other details of a mundane urban life in July and early August (aka househusbandnot: the early years).

I could also argue that we had such a relaxing time in Scotland that I can't summon up the angsty introspective cynic that is househusbandnot. (Yeah, whatever.)

And/or I could just stop doing househusbandnot.

But I can hear the sighs of disappointment from around the globe, the panicked wheezes from the househusbandnot junkies, the tear-arresting gulp from our friend in Hawaii, the murmurs of discontent from the campfires of the Clan Househusbandnot in Scotland, and the frustrated thump of a fist on a worktable in househusbandnot's stalker's bunker. Oh yeah, and my mother in law who told me last week she thought househusbandnot was "boring".

Re new characters, I wish I was a good enough writer to give some colour to the super-loser at the campsite in the Lake District who had called his son Tynan and was bellowing at his bored looking wife for his special tin mug in the morning. And God created Tosser. Or my cousin's husband and his story about Stanley Baxter chasing him around a sofa with a plaintive but threatening "You don't know what you are missing. I must have you." Or the bloke I overheard in a Scottish pub confessing to his friend "I thought she was shy. But then she took all her clothes off". Or the grumpy farmer who was trying to look noble and moody from his tractor when we asked him for directions, to the background music of Prince's Raspberry Beret from the radio in his tractor cabin.

I'll work on it.