Greg Bray, columnist for the Gladstone Observer. Photo Brenda Strong/The Observer
Greg Bray, columnist for the Gladstone Observer. Photo Brenda Strong/The Observer Brenda Strong GLA170212GREG

OPINION: Buckle up, you're in for some turbulence

FOLKS, running a modern home is a lot like running an airport; obviously without the degrading security checks, luggage check-ins and outrageous parking fees.

This thought struck me recently as Long Suffering Wife and I spent half an hour one morning sifting through all the incoming and outgoing traffic that would arrive and depart through our suburban "terminal” that day.

Our schedule quickly fell apart when we received a call from an unexpected arrival and a quick check of the facility's vending machines (fridge and pantry) revealed that we would need to quickly restock in to meet our visitors' catering requirements.

The timetable was hastily re-written, calls were made to re-adjust bookings and, just as we were about to head out the door, a hose burst under the bathroom sink, which also rather neatly blew our schedule right out of the water.

While that soggy crisis was being dealt with by the grumbling maintenance department (me), another phone request was taken at the booking counter (Long Suffering Wife's phone) which involved an earlier than planned VIP passenger pick up (our granddaughter). Once again, our schedule was rehashed, two non-urgent bookings cancelled, then we took off to the hardware shop, and corner store, before collecting the VIP.

That night, as we collapsed into bed, I thanked the team for their efforts that day to pull off the impossible (again), suggested some improvements to our service delivery, then went through the following day's schedule. Unfortunately, Long Suffering Wife had fallen asleep as soon as I started talking.

Early next morning, the fun started all over again.

I don't know how we turned into household air traffic controllers but, one day, I fully expect our busy "airport” will become a backwater railway station with fewer visitors, dramas, less ringing phones and yelling.

I'm sure we'll spend lots of time watching the weeds grow through the tracks as we anxiously wait for the "trains”, and probably look back on this frantic phase with some fondness...

Still, with a bit of luck, I'll snag the role of Fat Controller. Well, I'm halfway there.



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