CHAOS BEFORE PREDICTABILITY

“What the fuck is that?” is the very phrase then ran through my head many, many times today whilst cleaning a house that harboured decades of dirt and decadence. Complete with spider webs that were probably older than myself and dust that clung to the wall for dear life, I was regretting the three hours sleep I’d had prior to the task.

Just when I thought I’d finished room number one I found the door (largely due to the fact I had to go through it to leave said room). Now, I was pretty sure this door was meant to be white, but it wasn’t.

That was fine though. That was merely dirt’s nameless henchmen. The true horror lay in wait in the bathroom. It was a family holiday for filth; even the third cousins were there.

Enter the harbinger of doom: me. Now, it may have laughed in the face in my cloth, warm water and branded spray stuff, but this bottle of thick bleach was ready to ruin its day. And hour and a half later, and I’d not only got all up in its grill, but I’d beaten it to death with it and taken its sandwich.

I’ll leave you with this: don’t underestimate how much fun a cobweb brush is.