Small Pleasures

This week is rather lovely.  Last week we took on a new cleaning lady; I can't manage to move well enough to fling the vacuum about and bending over isn't a barrel of laughs, but sadly my eyesight hasn't deteriorated to the point where I can't see the grime accumulating.  Kim has done a sterling job of trying to stay on top of things, but he doesn't see dirt the way I do... No, he just doesn't see it at all.

In the interests of not nagging him to death, and to keep sane enough inside the house, we decided it was time to tackle the problem.  Enter stage left the delightful Donna, who is a turbo-charged whirlwind of mops, dusters and elbow grease.  She started last Tuesday and came back today (thank goodness) looking very purposeful.  

What a treat - Kim is in London working and after she blitzed, polished and mopped the house, Donna left and I sunk into a long, hot bubbly bath; what luxury.  Before I got so lame, I used to go through the house like a dose of salts, get all pink in the face and scrub everything clean, then have a lovely hot bath and get out feeling all fragrant and enjoy my clean house.  It has been ages since I've been able to do that, but with Donna subbing nicely as the domestic whirlwind, today feels like old times.

I do love it when you find someone who is as picky and particular as you are - and this is a happy relationship, because I haven't looked at one thing she's done and thought "Cripes! I could have done better than that."  Kim lives in terror of Mrs Kebab (bad joke I know, but it's a term of endearment) and I'm happy for him to stay that way. 

Tonight I have visitors and I won't even be ashamed to open my door to them!