Sunday, November 05, 2006


I have been cleaning at the witch's cauldron.

It's a long drawn out process because I will get sidetracked by everything under the sun except the cleaning.

Now that I've finally had the dripping tap fixed in the bathroom and no longer need a jug, basin and watering can in there to catch the water, I cleaned up. Usually I wait until the silverfish start dying in the accumulated powder.

Tidied up the bathroom shelves, lined up all the bottles in a nice straight line and reminded myself to watch "Sleeping with the Enemy" again.

The shelves also brought to mind a quiz I saw ages ago. What is the worst snooping a person can do? Look at someone's bathroom cabinet or look in their fridge?

Cabinet's not bad, check fridge. Okay, any visitors can amble through my lotions, potions and face powder but no-one is allowed near the festering swamp that masquerades as my fridge.

It's not entirely my fault. Someone I was married to broke the plastic drainage thingies by jamming a week's beer supply up against them. The drainage thingies used to dribble down the big drainage tube to the tray underneath the fridge but now it just falls to the bottom inside. I had enough water in there to stave off the drought.

Check freezer, enough ice to sink the Titanic.

Check seals to ensure a tight fit for maximum performance. The seals must be those ragged broken bits around the door that are a pain to clean. Someone I was married to had pulled the bottom one almost completely off then sneakily repaired it with packaging tape.

I can't clean it yet. I remembered why I had those long barbecue tongs when I don't barbecue anymore and why they were rusty which is why I threw them out. Buy new ones next week but in the meantime move the champagne to a higher shelf just to be safe.

The champagne is to celebrate the 5th anniversary of my divorce from someone I was married to which is today but I think I'll get ratfaced on Cup Day. This will continue a long tradition, set by him I was married to, of never seeing out the first Tuesday of November in anything resembling a conscious state.


Andrew said...

The demon drink. Sounds like a good idea and it can be very theraputic, even if you don't think so initially next morning.

Davoh said...

"therapeutic drinking" now there's a thought .. must be a whole new opportunity out there to promote alcohol as 'therapeutic'. mm, must buy a bottleshop or pub of some sort .. compete with the therapeutic "massage parlours" ..nah, will never work, have to combine the two. Sex and alcohol .. whhee hoo, make a squillion .. wait a mo.. add gambling and could add another squillion..

JahTeh said...

It was very theraputic for me to watch his hangover the next day since I was sensible enough not to drink. For the last few years I've been able to sit down and enjoy the Cup without a gurgle of freeloaders on the turps.

Davo, from before the Roman Empire those three things were the roads to riches until the Church stuck it's puritanical nose in.

Ron said...

What's wrong with a therapeutic massage? :-)

The worst that can happen is that you can be sacked as leader of the US's largest group of influential god-botherers, the best you ... well, I'll leave that to your imagination! ;-)