This de-cluttering malarky seems to be very popular.
On yesterday’s walk two pine bedside tables standing forlornly on the pavement attracted my attention. I’d already painted them duck egg blue and replaced the boring wooden knobs with funky ceramic ones – in my head, of course – when it hit me: a) they’re too bulky for me to carry, b) Coronavirus could be lurking on the varnished surface and c) how do I know the residents of number 57 want to give them away? Maybe they’re storing them on the pavement while they defrost the fridge.
The people on my street’s WhatsApp group are much clearer about what they want shot of. Yesterday Elaine advertised a full set of Henry hoover tools she found lurking in the back of a cupboard. Virus or no virus, I snapped her hand off. Round brushy tool for upholstery, thin plastic tool for nooks and crannies – never has cleaning held such potential!
“Come here boy. Good boy,” says daughter to her new labour saving device.
I have to admit that our new pet does gobble up dirt as he scampers around the house. However, like a not very well trained dog, he does have his moments. Today he trapped me in the corner of the kitchen for 10 minutes while I shouted, “Bugger off!”
Daughter eventually persuaded him to stop bullying me and Alexa sent him back to his docking station where he sulked for the rest of the afternoon. Who’s in control here, I wonder.
What is it they say about one person’s meat being another’s poison? Oh, Henry, you’re my man.