Remembering Dustbunnies

I was reading a post today at ‘The BiPolar Diaries‘ where she was having an issue with dustbunnies and it reminded me of something. When I was a struggling single mother I was always looking for ways to earn a little extra cash. I worked during the day teaching computer classes in a small 6 person classroom, I typed for a businessman in the evenings, also I would fill in at a hotel, when needed at their front desk, and during that time I started a little business I called Dustbunnies.

My eldest son created a logo of rabbits done out in French Maid costume flourishing dusters, and we put out flyers everywhere, offering cleaning services. My three sons would take turns in helping me on Saturday’s. I told them that is how they earned their pocket money, as there would be none otherwise. They did it with reluctant grace but they liked it when I shared the earnings with them.

It was hard work and on Saturday evenings I would flake out while the house filled up with other people’s teenagers, come to watch videos which my sons bought with their earnings. They brought the snacks and pop, I didn’t mind as long as it was all cleaned up before everyone left, as at least I knew when my three teens were on Saturday nights.

I was relieved when I got remarried that I was able to give up that grueling schedule as my new husband offered me the option of staying home if I liked. I did like and I have ever since. Although initially I felt guilty for taking time off, when he was working, but he liked me to be there when he got home, and instead of me working on Saturdays, I would go out with him while he gave quotes to potential customers and then we would go for Chinese food.

Funny how some thought by another blogging friend would bring back a memory. That so often happens doesn’t it.

Teenage antics – what were they?

Ann Clemons at A nice place in the sun asks the question “What is your craziest teenage experience or memory?” My husband tells me I had very tame teenage years, especially when he compares mine with his.

I was in a boarding school until I was 16. In England, at least in the early 1960’s there was no such thing as graduation, one just left school, there were no parties or awards, just “Bye, see you around.”

The day after I left school my mother and father produced the newspaper at the breakfast table, and they decided on what jobs I should apply for. My mother phoned for an appointment for me and took me to my first job interview. I started work the next week in a typing pool in the city of London, two hours by bus and subway train, there and back each day.

I left home at 6am in the morning to get up to London in time for the start of work at 8:30am and left work at 4pm to get to night school at 6pm and then caught the bus at 8pm because I had to be home by 9pm. I had a 9pm curfew, and one night my bus was late, but that didn’t count with my father, I was not allowed out on the weekends for a month.

I was not permitted at any time to go to dances, pubs or coffee shops and he scared off any dates, which were extremely rare, as you can imagine, when did I have time to get one? He used to corner these poor boys in the living room and have a man to man talk! I never did find out what was discussed but I rarely got a second date. All my father cryptically commented was “I know what I was like at that age!”

So I don’t have anything exciting to relate at least nothing I can remember.

Relevant posts:
School days
Hard to imagine
Oh! how times have changed