Sunday, August 12, 2018

Hijab cleaning

Leslie from Vancouver is coming to visit tomorrow. We're old blogging friends and we've met several times in real life both here and in Vancouver so because I don't want her to catch anything I've been cleaning.

Husband said, 'You realise if you kept the house immaculate at all times you wouldn't have to indulge in the mass clean every now and again.'
I smiled sweetly while contemplating the slow and painful death I have planned for him.

In reality my cleaning is rather like a hijab - or as Boris Johnson would say, a letterbox - in that it has a very limited spread. I don't do above eye level; I don't do low down; I don't do a lot in between if I'm honest.

Because really what is the point? It's only going to get dirty again. Much as I like it when the house is sparkly clean it doesn't stay that way for long. I have a dog and a husband. Yes, and I'm a bit of a scruff too.

All of which makes me wonder why I persist in buying white tablecloths when I regularly feed a family. And Husband. Who is more of a problem that all the grandchildren combined. Or why I continue to believe the reviews that say, 'Washes well. Even red wine stains come out.'  Red wine might; my lasagne doesn't.

2 comments:

SmitoniusAndSonata said...

He does realise that if you did, he'd never be able to put a mug down, eat a biscuit, spread the paper out, come in in his gardening boots ...

Liz Hinds said...

Precisely, sonata! Or spill lasagne on the sofa!