No Stuart this weekend Instead my step-sisters Amanda and Suzanne are arriving, Amanda is also bringing her partner Mikey and their two sons James and Kieran. As a result I have been kicked out of the nice, comfy, private bedroom and reduced to a “mattress” on the floor in the study:
This new “bed” is quite possibly the least comfy thing I have ever slept on. In fact, as far as my back and hips are concerned I am sleeping on the wooden floor. Aside from that, the walls are paper thin on this side of the house so when my Step-dad decides to bang around at stupid o’clock in the morning there is no sleeping through it, likewise when he decides to hoover.
This leads smoothly onto my next point, and the main point of my posting; why is that when people age they feel the need to live in a show home? I mean seriously, Bill is hoovering again now, this is the third time he has hoovered the lounge today, I know we have guests coming but NOBODY CARES! Nobody cares that there is a teeny weeny speck of dust on the floor or that there is a bag sat next to the sofa. No normal person lives in a completely spotless house where nothing is out of place, do you know why? Because it would drive them CRAZY. Houses are meant to be lived in not cleaned 50 times a day to make sure that there is no sign of life in them and it appears that this need for hospital like sanitisation gets worse with age. What on earth causes it? Is it a need to live in a sterile environment to prolong life? Or does it just go hand in hand with the need to irritate people as much as possible with the time you have left?
Apologies if this comes across as mean, heartless and/or disrespectful, I love Bill to pieces but sometimes he does make me want to shoot myself and it is getting more and more often as he ages.