Friday, May 25, 2007
A Cunning Plan
Tonight we see the return to Hallett’s Mountain of She Of The Town House after ten days in the foreign. I have been anxious to prevent a repeat of the last debacle. To this end I have searched the house from top to bottom and have eventually found the dyson. More than that, I have figured out how to plug it in.
It worked for about half an hour but I am not sure if there isn’t something wrong with it. Blind Pugh and Asbo have been having a competition to see who can be first to shed their own body weight of dog hair. This seems to have filled the little clear plastic bit and now it is giving off an unpleasant burning smell every time I turn it on. I must say that the container part seems awfully small. I reckon there could be a market for dysons with emptyable containers. Ones you could take off, turf the rubbish in to a bin and use them again. You wouldn’t have to throw them away so often then. Still never mind, I am sure women have their reasons. Her shaggy old angora sweater seems to pick up dog hair almost as well. The new two tone effect that it has taken on will be a pleasant surprise I am sure.
We have cracked the toilet as well. Oh I don’t mean a real crack. I mean we have managed to mask the unpleasant smell and save water at the same time. I was looking in Mrs Wilsons Hardware and I saw these things that you set light to in order to get rid of insects in the greenhouse. The lavatories ( we are posh here) in the town house don’t smell half as bad since we left one of them in each overnight. Smudge pots or something. I recommend them to you all.
Since we learned that trick from last time the dog has sorted out all the washing up. Except for the really baked on peas. Seeing as you can’t tell what colour they were originally, we are going to try and pass that one off as next doors rat. Which incidentally we haven’t seen since Ben lost it in the sitting room, so it is a pretty feasible excuse.
Oh yes, we sellotaped all those plants she loves and tends up to some sticks that we found on the beach and so we haven’t had to water them much at all. This has been much better from the point of view of flooding.
All in all I reckon she is going to be pretty pleased by how we have managed.
All except of course the room belonging to The Boy. If I reveal no more to all you mothers out there than the fact that he is thirteen, going on fourteen, I am sure you will have almost as clear a picture as the vile reality of his pit.
There are yoghurt (I may even have spelled yoghurt correctly this time Mike) pots in there that are beginning to evolve into a new subspecies. Any lower into the pile I care not to delve, less I get an infected wound. I have helped in just one regard I have removed all remote controls and aerials and game controllers from his room.
Everything else he is going to have to deal with himself. Then he can have them all back again.