I know full well it wouldn't matter 'cos I'd be sitting on a fluffy cloud trying to keep away from my Mother... and Himself would be complaining to St Peter because there weren't any crossword puzzles to do...but I have a bit of a thing about all the stuff we have under the bed...and have fleeting thoughts of pure horror that someone would be sighing and muttering in disgust when they came to clear the cottage out.
We don't have any cupboards as such you see...apart from the hot-press that is and I refuse to go in there...it's the home of the mutant spiders.
So everything we don't need now this minute is crammed into those plastic boxes especially designed to go under beds...and they gather oodles of dust bunnies...Bobby...the Collie dog, sleeps under the bed as well, though his legs tend to stick out and trip Himself up when he gets up in the night to go to the loo or to make me a nice cup of tea...
Armed with a proper dust mask and the vacuum and a cushion to kneel on 'cos of my knees, I set forth. And found my collection of china cats...another collection of decorated tin eggs...an Ostrich egg painted with a scene of Table Mountain in South Africa...a cardboard box totally crammed full of very important papers which included the exercises I was given by the re-hab nurse...I fished them out as they were near the top of the pile and she'd said something about 'thighs' which I ought to read again...
There were clothes as well...summer tops that I've not worn in donkeys years and loads of stuff which in all honesty could only really be classed as rubbish...it's all gone. Some for the charity shop some on the bookshelves and some for the re-cycling place. There's just the cardboard box of very important papers left and I really can't face delving into them just yet...
The next worse place is a set of bookshelves with a dresser underneath...also in the bedroom. The dresser is bursting with family history stuff...everything from photos of stern looking men with big moustaches to a copy of the certificate my English Grandpa received when he joined the Free-Masons...there's also all the research I've ever done on deviant burials...mountains of that which needs sorting and indexing. The book shelves are crammed full of cheap thrillers bought from car boot sales and charity shops that are just sitting there mouldering away...
Just in case you're wondering about all the dust bunnies and me with my lungs...I sleep on the settee! With Eilis. Who snores.
And actually I'd like a cleaning lady...someone horribly efficient who'd polish the taps and hurl spiders out of the windows without shuddering and who wouldn't be fazed by the occasional mouse skipping across the kitchen floor...the sort of person who'd make it her business to sweep under the bed.
Just need to work on Himself's horror of spending money...!
Janexx
Cleaning Out The Freezer...
Reflux bed risers .?
