Brown

I'm not sure that washing machines were invented to wash Diet-Coke soaked bedding. But mine has just done that. It's shameful really, it's been a bedding day, throwing the burnt out, putting on new ones and putting those straight into this wonderful machine whose looks do it no justice. But I believe in diversity, to me, it's beautiful because of course we never should judge the book by its cover, and since it's so obedient, than of course it can have a home. I'm running so late, and I keep coming here just to see that the incoming flight is getting earlier and earlier. And I get stuck here on blogger. It's just too nice to let go. I just have to somehow fit a big duvet into a small bag and I'll be done. I'm not taking the duvet to the cleaners myself, I'd be so ashamed, Diet Coke looks like a lot of things. Ok it's smells like Diet Coke, that's the only redeeming factor, but other than that, it just looks, well, a little brown, maybe too brown for my liking. And I am not going to be the one to hang my head in shame when they inspect it. God knows what they're going to think it is. And I have a hunch my Diet Coke story is not a very good one, although it's a 100% true. I wonder what normal people dirty their duvets with. The obvious, oh God, I'd throw it away, pungent pungent smell. The not so obvious such as dust, that would be grand. But I cannot see myself walk up to the counter and say what happened and watch while the cleaner girl (who actually needs to get her face dry-cleaned in steam and whatever else) asks what happened. Who the hell will believe that my duvet drank a whole Diet Coke bottle? Very few, only the few that know I am catastrophic at these things. It'll be so brown, maybe they will think it's coffee, that would be nice. But what if they think it's something else, a brown something. Then I'll just have to walk the walk of shame and make them think I'm some sort of freak who takes kindly to watersports and scat play... which I really and honestly don't. I like to think I have an open mind but I stil have my reservations. No, I'm not doing it myself, I have to find another way. Or maybe throw it all away.

Beds and Clutter

The waiting days are almost up. Of course I'd planned on dressing up to the nines and giving my newly-bought make up a try. Yeah right. I think I'm a very bad version of Mafalda trying to look good, which is never, because even Mafalda looks pretty good next to me right now. I woke up thanks to me ruining my bedsheets, not that I care much about bedlinen. But geeze I could have burnt the house down. I do not recall lighting a cigarette and going to sleep. But I must have, it's only me in here, and my cats are good non-smoking citizens. I also could have burnt myself, as has happened many a time, being woken up by the excruciating pain of the burning. As it is I got lucky, it was just the sheets. And sheets can be replaced in a snap, not like the very ugly burn I got last year, which I tried to pass off as an allergy but was so bad it was obvious I was lying through my teeth. The thing is, I could have said the truth, but one woman actually thought I was getting battered by the Mister!!!! My Mister actually battering something is inconceivable, he's such a big old softy. Henceforth (lovely word), so as not to draw attention to 179, 151, and Caritas, I decided I'd change the lie and say it was a big boil, which was an even sillier lie because it really looked what is was, a burn bang on my cleavage. I thought my cleavage, out of all things, would be scarred for life, but noooooo God sometimes makes things right and there isn't even a hint out of what once was a really ugly and painful burn. So I say yes to burning the sheets instead of my lovely self. But this has got to stop, perhaps I'll just take the ashtray away from the bedroom, but then I cannot sleep if I don't cigarette myself to sleep. Yes odd, but I'm odd and I cannot do anything about it. Anyway, had a really full day and decided to sleep off the afternoon... till 8pm. Cool, I woke up feeling really refreshed, and suddenly too refreshed. There I go again, I managed to spill a whole Diet Coke bottle on my sheets, duvet, right down to the mattress. Perfect. I really must have a thing for beds today. So off went everything, thankfully I have a spare duvet, and a spare mattress (yes I don't throw anything away). But this is delirious, how can a woman be so mad. It's a what's Diet Coke doing on my bed? I don't know, it just happened to be there, maybe I opened it in my sleep. So now there is now way I'll be dolled up by the flight arrival. What can I do about it... nothing. I do so want to clean up my act and have a magazine style bedroom without clutter, and have a clutterless kitchen, a clutterless bathrom. Clutter sort of sticks to me, it has one powerful adhesive. I must be the Clutter Queen, really I'd win a contest like that hands down. Now come tomorrow when my help will be in the house, she will transform my house into a glossy looking house. Then I'll be having my phone on repeat dial because I'll be so lost and everything will be so lost to me. I guess I have to keep trying. I have to, because one day I'll be 70 and in an old people's home, and I will be risking getting thrown on the streets if I take my clutter to Dar l-Anzjani li ghadhom jidhru zghar....