I'm not a huge fan of housework, but I like my house reasonably clean and tidy. It's amazing how much clutter and grot can acculate around two adults and a Little Black Dog. I like to think that the Little Black Dog is responsible for most of it.
In fact I'm glad some days that we are as yet childless. I think that would just put it over the edge into chaos, or as my friend Givinya would call it "Ransack Chic".
There are, however, times when I enjoy housework. When there is sufficient time to do the tasks required I can enjoy allowing my mind to wander the universe as I reduce mess back into order. And I like the sense of accomplishment. And the nice, clean house.
But (and with housework there is always a but) there are a few jobs which I despise.
Cleaning the shower is one of them.
There is something about pulling soggy hair balls out of the plug hole which disgusts me. There is the sheer surface area to be cleaned. There is the fact that the worst of the mess always seems to happen on or near the floor (which is a very long way down). There is the fact that soap scum takes a little encouragement to come off. There is the fact that it only looks clean until the next time it is used, or (in the case of the shower near our guest room) until the dust settles on the floor.
I'm on a bit of a cleanliness kick at the moment. I decided that if I wipe the shower over after I use it in the morning (my Beloved is always first through the shower) it would stay clean. Or at least not need so much work at the end of the week, err... fortnight... okay, month.
So, after drying off, I pick up the cleaning cloth and wipe everything over before I get out of the cubicle. I'm very glad that the en-suite is a private place, because I'm not certain that me, starkers, bending over to wipe the floor is a picture that anyone needs to see. Including me.
I've been enjoying the glistening glass and chrome and the shiny whiteness...
...until I realised that the shower cubicle is not as big as I obviously had thought.
Perfectly imprinted on the gleaming purity of the clear glass shower screen were two little (?) circles. Just below hip height. Hmmm.
What are the chances I took a photo as evidence?
... Approximately None!
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