you know how it goes.. always wear clean undies in case you are hit by a bus (and why a bus???) this has ensured I have worn clean undies every day of my almost 42 years, some may have not been 100% dry when I put them on but they were clean!

well my biggest fear used to be what would the CSI team think when they came to my house and found it revoltingly grotty... that was until I spent 4 hours cleaning this morning and decided if they (or anyone else for that matter) was in my house after I had died I wouldn't care because I would be dead.. that is how much I hate cleaning.

Yes I am still wracked with guilt for not supplying my children with a sparkling house with no bits of crud in any corners behind the doors and a streak free spotless shower, not the one with orange tinged mould and a door you can hardly see through that we have and the rooms with rounded corners from fluff build up, the fluff has compacted and that stuff is like concrete now and there is no way I am any way inclined to get down on my hands and knees and chipping it off.

And then to add insult to injury Alec asks.. who is coming to visit, at the ripe old age of six Alec has realised that you only clean when visitors are coming, if it is your mother this starts a whole week before hand if it is friends and their families the day before and then a select few are allowed in to see your true colours and can come any time unannounced even.

And then their is poor Michael who feels as though he is under telepathcs assault as the cloud of bad feelings follow me around the house and I humph and sigh and carry various bottles of cleanser and spray that have either never been used or have a squirt left in the bottom and a dud sprayer. All he had to do was ask what I wanted done instead he feels guilty for having breakfast and I don't understand why he doesn't just ask what I want done, because we are after all having visitors tomorrow, isn't it obvious what has to be done..