Yes yes yes, I know that rocking a baby is far more important than dusting, but we decided to let the kids run wild a bit in the name of getting the house slightly less filthy. We had pet hair balls the size of tumble weeds and strange fluffy stuff clinging to walls and grease behind the cooker. The thing of nightmares for someone like me that's a bit manic about cleanliness. I won't even say what I found under my bed.
And so today is Thursday (which is errr just four days later) and the house is the pits once again. Dirty floors, pet hair, toys scattered like a bomb went off, food & cutlery stuffed under Danny's booster seat that comes tumbling out when I tilt the chair forward, full laundry baskets, and a filthy kitchen. Barnacles as Jack would say. Effing F F I say. There aren't enough F words to really conjure up the moment sometimes. I do worry that I'm turning into Ozzy, swearing in front of the kids, but I do it under my breath and hope for the best. If I win the lottery I'm absolutely definitely getting a cleaner.
And now - it's 11pm ad I'm going to sign off & play Scrabble on the iPad with Craig. We are so crap at it and think we're Einstein when we get four letters....
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