I am writing this post from the hell-pit of despair. While on the verge of realising the man-cave of my dreams a great calamity – caused mainly by me – burst towards the sky from the fertile ground of eye-bulging excitement, like a magic beanstalk, but crashed to the ground, dead and dry, before I could even climb one branch towards the basket of golden eggs.
This is a sponsored post by Super A-mart
When Super A-mart asked if I’d like to team up to spread the word about the saving customers can make by shopping online I clapped rapidly in front of my chest like a young girl licking her braces and bouncing on her toes at a Five Second of Summer concert for the reasons listed here:
1. My man cave is an excellent gym room I set up in our home over several years, which is missing only a few essential items: a wall mounted Plasma TV (or more eco-friendly equivalent), a futuristic sound system with wires inside the walls to avoid the use of those unsightly little white clips, and a lounge suite that all my gym buddies can sit on to watch the AFL footy every weekend or so.
2. For two years I have been promising my gym buddies that I will provide that space to them but, as always, money puts up the big red sign – like a council worker fresh from a long stint in the penitentiary complete with hard labour and forced intimacy – and so my man-cave dreams have gone unrealised.
3. We bought our current lounge suite from Super A-mart in Campbellfield some six years ago and it is at a point now, thanks to the love and attention of four young boys, where it is PERFECT for a man-cave. And this is where I saw Super A-mart coming to my aid, once again.
4. The money I could make from this collaboration could have gone some way to paying for a new lounge suite for the lounge room, which Reservoir Mum would have been pleased about and… oh my god! You see where I was heading with all this….
5. The AFL footy finals are coming! I was imagining me and my gym buddies – Frank, Nige, Linden, Jack, Bill and Humber, sitting on the old lounge suite, sharing laughter and beer and screaming at the family TV, which I had temporarily moved into the gym until we could afford another Plasma. I imagined being the only happy man on the couch after watching the Geelong Cats holding up the Premiership Cup.
6. I was confident Reservoir Mum would go along with all of that because of the financial assistance from Super A-Mart, because they’ve got a nationwide sales happening often, and because she was so sick of the two years of plead-whining I’d put her through.
But then this happened…
After a fury filled panic-clean of the kitchen last night I went to bed and had a pleasant chat with RM before drifting into a dreamy sleep filled with my fellow men of the cave, unrealised boyhood dreams and rubber-coated fifty kilo bumper plates.
An hour into the next day as I was sailing through the morning routine and preparing to write this particular post, RM stopped and frowned before heading out the door to work and asked, ‘Have you seen my glasses?’
The glasses she was talking about were the horrendously expensive, individually designed, very sexy pair that seemed to take her months to acquire but even with all that I was unconcerned and said simply, ‘Nope.’
It was only when she said, ‘I put them here on the bench. I remember because I saw that you’d put the empty multi-packet of Vege Chips over them later’ that I was bathed in the shadow of the falling beanstalk.
I used that empty multi-packet of Vege Chips as a rubbish bag last night as I rushed the island bench collecting gladwrap and food scraps and tissues and all matter of filthy debris and now that RM mentions it, I do remember that the chip bag felt unusually heavy when I first picked it up. And now that I remember that it felt unusually heavy I remember that I took it and shoved it in the outside bin. And now that I remember the outside bin I get a vision of it sitting on the curb because last night was BIN NIGHT!
When RM says ‘I hope they haven’t been thrown out’, I say, ‘Don’t worry I’ll just go have a look. I put the bag right at the top of the bin’ and RM says, ‘The rubbish has been collected already’ and that is why I’m writing this post from the hell-pit of despair.
Were the glasses inside the bag? Yes. How do I know? Because RM is now at work, the boys are at school and kinder and childcare, and I have searched the entire house and the closest thing I have found to an expensive, sexy pair of reading glasses is an old issue of People Magazine with a picture of Scarlet Johansson in it. Am I in a bucket-load of trouble right now? Yes. Here is the text message exchange between Reservoir Mum and myself, which occurred only an hour ago…
How did the glasses get in there? I don’t know.
What I do know are these three things:
1. Even if it’s not entirely my fault the glasses have been crushed under three tons of rubbish it is entirely my fault the glasses have been crushed under three tonnes of rubbish, so I just have to suck it up.
2. The only furniture I will be moving into my gym in the near future is a mattress for me to sleep on.
3. I am now writing this post for Super A-mart so that the money can go some way to paying for a new pair of sexy reading glasses instead of a lounge suite for the lounge room. Goodbye watching the AFL footy finals in my decked out man cave for a little while longer.
If the opportunity to realise my dream man-cave ever sprouts magically from the ground again, I will be going to Super A-mart for my supplies. They’ve really got me out of a tight spot here. (And their lounge suite has taken my arse every day for over six years without a whimper!)
Super A-mart has regular sales with massive savings to be made nationwide. Please help me to fund Reservoir Mum’s new prescription reading glasses by shopping online at www.superamart.com.au so that she can at least sit beside me on the old couch as we watch the Cats lift the cup. And please let them know that Reservoir Dad sent you, that I’ll be coming by at some stage, hopefully soon, to get me that new couch.