My partner works in the building trade and his current project is here in the town where I live. He’s going to be staying with me for a few days to save him having to travel in each day from the other side of the Island - which is only all of ten miles away but hey, it’s a good enough excuse for me. He?s not a bad bed-warmer either, so I?ll get off the couch for a few days at least.
We don’t live together and mainly see each other at the weekend, but we talk on the phone every day. Now that my daughter is away at school on the mainland, I’ve had the house pretty much to myself (and the furry ones) and I have to admit that I’m slightly anxious about sharing the place ? even if it is only for a few days. It’s a small flat so the addition of another person ? and another animal - makes a big difference. He’s going to turn up with his elderly diabetic dog Kim sometime in the next couple hours. I’m sitting here at the computer, surveying the cluttered mess that is my living room, knowing that part of the reason I’m writing this is to avoid the inevitable mad dash around to tidy up before they arrive because I won?t stand a chance once they?re here.
Hooboy! Speaking of tidying up, I’m a lucky lass because I also get to use the new hoover*, I bought yesterday, thanks to a little plastic card with MBNA written on it. My new hoover is an Electrolux, the all singing, all dancing, dirtbagless, powder-blue carpet-sucking machine that is sitting over in the corner, mocking me. My old hoover died ? murdered by the child ? a few weeks back and the situation in my living room reached crisis point yesterday afternoon. I mean, I can?t have carpet creatures chasing Vester around the flat like that! It?s just not on. So out came the Emergency Plastic. That?s EP for short, you know, as in ?what does one say when one opens one?s credit card bill??
Since the last one died (was murdered), I?ve been eyeing up the hoovers each time I go to re-charge my ?lecci key for my pay-as-you-go-meter and thinking I?d have to look for something second hand (again) because the prices were astronomical for something that would last. (i.e., suck up loads of cat fur and beg for more; bear up under abuse from the child? she hoovers with a vengeance.) I was in luck though and got a reliable brand for a decent price ? about half of what I?d expected to pay after my reconnaissance missions. This is the first brand-new hoover I?ve ever owned (sad but true) and so in honour of the occasion, I think I?ll give it a name. Maybe it will come to me if I get off my butt and throw it around the carpet for a while.
OK, enough procrastination, time to get carpet-sucking!
Bronwyn the lap-warmer
Or maybe not.
I was just about to post this blog when the phone rang. Disentangling myself from Bronwyn the lap-warmer, I walked across the room under the menacing glare of my powder blue sucker and picked up the phone to find out that my partner would not be arriving this evening after all and the hoovering could wait.**
I should probably explain something at this point. I live over a library. Although I don?t have to be as quiet as a mouse, I don?t do things like hoovering when it?s open. Except for Thursdays and Sundays, my carpet sucking activities have to take place either first thing in the morning or later in the evening. Hmmm? sounds familiar somehow. In my defence, that?s why I bought a much-needed hoover yesterday afternoon and still haven?t used it. By the time they?re shut downstairs, I can?t be bothered to start cleaning. Good thing tomorrow?s Sunday!
Well, now that the heat?s off, I?ll post this, make myself a snack and watch this week?s episode of Casualty.***
~~ >< ~~ >< ~~ >< ~~
*They call ’em all hoovers over here, whether it’s a Dyson or Electroglide... er... lux? or whatever name-brand you can think of. It’s a vacuume to you Yanks.
**SAE, is this an allowable WooHoo Moment?
***British version of ER.
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