We're Filthy

I was shocked to discover how dirty our kitchen is. I was making a cup of coffee, the coffee machine sits on the back bench in the kitchen, the one that gets less use as a work bench and more use as that place to put stuff. I started to rub the granite bench top, as the coffee machine did its thing, with my fingernail, and something scraped off. "Euw!" 

Then I noticed there was a kind dust mat under everything, just inside where we, clearly, have cleaned with the sponge. That led to daring to look behind the big wooden bowl, with all the pasta piled into it, that I can't remember when was the last time that it was moved. 

"Ah!" 

There was a crusty mound there of indeterminate origin. "Er." Grimace.

I thought we were clean people. Of course, Sam would blame me.

"I'm the tidy one," Sam would say.

And while technically he is correct, he cooks and I clean, I'm sure that doesn't include the long term cleaning maintenance, surely that is a core, structural household chore, to be shared? I clean up from the day before, with the main emphasis on the kitchen area. (I'm not really building my case, am I?)

It was all putrid. Grimace. Dirty kitchen. Familiarity breeds blindness. You just don't see it after a while. You get used to it and you end up not really looking, as the scenery, essentially, stays the same.

I'm waiting for Sebastian to come over, he said he'd be here by 10am. Sebastian is always two hours late. If he tells you he'll be over at a certain time, the joke is that you can just add two hours to the digit and save everyone the stress.

10.45am. Comes the text from Sebastian, Just woken up, how about midday? So, I have plenty of time to clean. Yay me!

I have one magnet on the fridge that says, A mind is a terrible thing to waste on housework.

I'm listening to Janis Joplin. I started with her first album, and now I am on album number 4.

Buddy is asleep in my arms as soon as I sit back down. He thinks he is a chihuahua, a 26 kilo chihuahua. More accurately, a bulldog is a dog that is hyper aware of his own space, but has a total disregard for anyone else's space. It's one of the things that make them bulldogs.