Living a Life of Crime

Did you know that a crime is committed every 2.8 seconds? And did you know that most domestic violence (including ‘spouse-icide’ and ‘teenage-son-icide’) is committed by people who are renovating their homes?

No, neither did I. In fact, I made that up.

But it does serve to illustrate the way my thought patterns are running at the moment.

As you may already know, the renovations on the “Bung Cal” (our house) are underway and things are getting a little ugly around here. In fact, by comparison, doing time in a maximum security prison seems rather inviting right now.

At least in prison they have doors. (Well, okay, I am not too thrilled by the whole ‘deadlock on the outside’ thing, but it’s a small price to pay for hot and cold running water and regular, cooked meals). Besides I am sure I would look rather fetching in one of those clean, prison-issue tunics. It would make a change from my current ‘hand-washed and drip-dried on the fence’ wardrobe.

It’s not that I really mind living in one room. It’s just that I don’t like having to share that room with the rest of the family, a television, lounge suite, fridge, sawbench, bags of cement and 18 million flies. Call me fussy, but I prefer modern conveniences (i.e. sinks, stoves….. walls).

So, that being said, it’s not difficult to see how tempers might be getting a little frayed around here and why a discussion about domestic violence could be timely — in the preventative sense.

After all, everywhere I look there are tempting options for the reno-wearied dweller (who has finally snapped after, say, arguing for two hours about the preferred location of a light switch).

For example, there is the sharp knife currently acting as a door-knob. Or the claw hammer, propped at the ready, in the dish drainer. Or the lump of 4 x 2 hardwood dangling tantalisingly from a door jamb.

Tools of the trade or weapons? I guess it’s all a matter of interpretation (and level of grumpiness).

For the moment, however, I think we are safe. No one seems too concerned about sharing the shower with the dishes, and “Knife Knob” has given the boys hours of amusement — thinking up a potential television ad for their fantastic invention.

It goes something like this:
“Tired of answering the door to annoying guests? Sick of troublesome relatives? Why not get new DOUBLE ACTION KNIFE KNOB?
In one easy wrist action you can open your door AND rid yourself of pesky visitors! New KNIFE KNOB comes complete with water-tight alibi and rubber gloves!”

Okay, I concede it might never catch on, but at least it’s keeping our spirits up.

As for the neighbours, I have no idea how they are coping with all the banging and crashing (no, not the builders — me trying to find things in the spare room).

I just hope they are not the suspicious types, particularly as I drag a pile of dirty laundry wrapped in a sheet into the boot of my car. I note that it is roughly the size and shape of a dead body and I smile as I picture Mrs Nextdoor rushing to phone the police.

But, so far so good. No arrests to date. Reno taking shape.

And the only sign of criminal behaviour is me feeding the family on a diet of barbequed EVERYTHING!