I mean, I'd have thought the coffee mugs could be sorted any time. Perhaps at Christmas when the littlies send us new ones saying "World's Best Nana" or "Grandad" so you can get shot of the ones from last year that said the same thing.
As for defrosting the freezer, well I've never quite understood the thinking behind that. By all accounts, you turn it off, remove the ice then turn it back on again to, er, make more ice. Go figure.
Anyway, on to the list also went "sort internet" and "change bank account".
At this point, I thought I'd be helpful and suggest to Mrs P some grading of items based on their priority.
If I'm being honest, I wanted her to get the "sort internet" thing, well, sorted as quickly as possible because I'm watching a series on Netflix and it's getting good.
We've been having internet issues lately and it's all been a bit stop/start.
Now, as you may know, it would be useless me trying to explain how any of it works. I get none of it.
All I know is what the kids have told me. Press the red button on this remote. Press the arrow right button on that remote. Press enter. Wait till it's all up and running. Enjoy.
Simple. Though in my experience it does also help if you hold your tongue a certain way, cross your fingers and toes and pray you've hit the right buttons on the right remote. So far I've not had too many issues, but lately the entire thing has been flicking in and out.
Apparently it's not me. It's a "fibre issue". Presumably, the house isn't getting enough? I'm picking that's not good, though I'm basing that view solely on the fact when I went for my last checkup my doctor told me I needed to take in a lot more fibre. I presume it's the same thing.
But I digress.
So Mrs P has her list and, me being me, I suggest fixing the internet should be her No.1 priority. Followed by "change bank account" as her No.2 priority.
Apparently, an email has arrived from our bank excitedly (read: pantswettingly excited if you get my drift) telling us it's more advantageous for us to change from our Whizzbang account to a Whizzbang Plus account.
As far as I'm concerned, you can call it what you like. I'm not bothered. Please just do it quickly. I've got a big golf game soon and I need some spare cash for a convivial ale after.
And no, Ms Bank Teller, I don't have an eftpos card. Thank you for asking for the 17,459th time. I'm striving to get into Guinness World Records as the last person on the planet to be forced to get one. As I told you last time. And the time before that.
But I digress. Again.
Some good old male common sense (ahem) applied to the list, I bid my maiden a fond farewell and ride off for a full day's hard graft on the trail.
Later, while on the road in the middle of nowhere, Mrs P comes to mind so I ring to tell I'm thinking of her and see how she's getting on. There may have also been a saucy suggestion involving a deserted rest area I've just passed too. I can't remember.
It seems the list is causing a few headaches.
Firstly, despite several hours of trying, she wasn't able to physically talk to anyone about the internet problem.
She had to do this thing called "chat". On the internet.
So, in a nutshell, she's been trying to use the thing that's not been working too well to tell the people who run that thing that it's not been working too well.
Eventually, she did manage to speak to someone who, in another nutshell, said: "Press the red button on this remote. Press the arrow right button on that remote. Press enter. Wait till it's all up and running. Enjoy."
So she tried it all and nothing worked. So she rang one of our kids and they said try this and it did.
It would be fair to say the whole experience left her less than impressed.
Nothing much had changed by the time I got home several hours later.
She was on the phone to the bank and had been for almost an hour. By that stage she was on her third contact, all of whom had happily extolled the advantages of the Whizzbang Plus account but none of whom seemed to know how to change it over from our tried and trusted Whizzbang account.
At that stage, her day completely consigned to the "unproductive" pile, Mrs P admitted defeat and wearily accepted the offer of a callback at a later date.
I sensed tension in the air. After all, I had strong-armed her into prioritising the two jobs on her list she'd just wasted a day on.
I'd better do something to make amends.
"How about a nice cup of coffee?" I meekly suggested.
A weary smile came across her face. It would be nice, she said, adding at least she'd managed to sort the mugs out first thing and dropped the old ones off at the Sallies.
It was at that point I completely ruined her day when I dropped her "World's Best Nana" mug and it smashed into a thousand pieces on the kitchen floor.
It would be fair to say at that point there was definitely only one mug left in the kitchen.
