In which Hestia's feral nature is exposed.....

I really should have been flying about the house like a white tornado over the past few days, knocking it into some reasonable shape for my OH's return from sea. The trick with this sort of cleaning is to make it look very tidy, but just untidy enough that it looks convincingly as though we've lived like that for the six weeks he isn't here.

Instead I opted to spend Sunday at my girlfriend's house as we had both (misguidedly) inflicted the punishment of 'No Telly, No Computers' on our only-child children and were well-suffering the 'play with me mum' consequences.  We decided to pool resources and spend the telly-free day together - eating home made waffles with bacon, strawberries, maple, syrup, greek yoghurt and butter.  All on the one plate. Divine.


Anyway, hubby was coming home yesterday.  But I had no time to tidy up because I was off to the hairdressers to get my roots done.  The stairs were still to be hoovered and the kitchen had developed an odd smell that I needed to investigate......maybe I would have time after the hairdressers.

I sprinted home a few hours later (it was a good inch and a half that needed dyed) and was relieved to discover the house echoingly empty.  I hoovered the stairs in about 5 minutes flat.  Every time I realise that it takes so little time to do, I wonder why I only bother to do it once every 6 weeks.

Anyway, I had just dragged the Dyson into the kitchen to hoover there and the slamming of a taxi door confirmed......he has returned.

Cut to today.  My feral nature has been exposed in its disgraceful entirety.

Willie realised that the trug of charity shop toys that he plonked his case down next to yesterday was, in fact the SAME trug of toys that he had left six weeks before-hand.  There was plenty of evidence in the way of dust bunnies behind it to prove that in the six week period, it hadn't even been kicked sideways to hoover behind. The dust bunnies had pet dust bunnies of their own.  Possibly even mortgages and families.

Worse,  FAR WORSE, is that he immediately identified the source of the unusual whiff in the kitchen.  There was a dead mouse in the boiler cupboard trap (humane killer - honestly).  It had obviously been there for AGES, if you catch my drift.

I hung my head in shame and loped up to my room to sit and reflect on my house-wifely failures.  Willie has said nothing, but it's one of those nothings that speaks volumes......

(mouse image: cannot find original source to credit ;-(  )