The tradesman, the bench and the burglar alarm.

This is what happens when you don't clean up before a tradesman arrives.

Oops. Are those cobwebs with dessicated flies clinging to the wall? Clumps of Rufus fur hanging onto the back of the bench cushions? Surely those aren't 3 year-old Jordan furballs clogging the carpet?!!

[I admit! I removed some all of the fur clinging onto the back of the bench before taking this picture. I couldn't help myself. It was a reflex action born of deep humiliation.]

"Oh my goodness!" I exclaimed, feigning surprise and giggling nervously when I saw The State Of The Area Behind The Bench. "Where did all that come from? I just vacuumed yesterday! It's very dusty here in Balmain. Did you see all the utes parked outside? There are 7 houses doing renos and repairs right now on this street! Can you believe it? It's like living in the middle of a construction site."

Of course, the tradesman was diplomatic. "No problem, ma'am." he said conversationally.

"Let me get the vacuum cleaner, " I suggested. "You don't want to get all asthmatic crawling around in there."

"Quick, Typist! I'll distract him by sticking my nose in his butt while you get the vacuum!"

Oh, the ignominy of it all. To be caught out by a tradesman as a sub-standard hausfrau. How was I to know he needed to get behind the bench? I'm furious the call centre didn't warn me.

"Please vacuum, mop, dust and otherwise sanitise your house before 12noon today. Our man will be coming and he'll need to get behind bulky pieces of furniture that haven't been moved in 10 years."

That was the Telstra man, by the way. As far as he's concerned, our internet connection is all good to go now. We'll see.

So here's my question for the day. 

How many of you clean up in anticipation of a tradesman coming over? Or dust, scrub, vacuum and mop before you go on a holiday?

I do. I clear the dishes, do all the dirty laundry, scrub out the bathtub and toilet bowl. I even change the bedsheets and towels.

I think it makes complete sense. If something bad should happen to us on holiday, I'd hate for the police, neighbours or rellies to break down the door and walk into a pig sty. Let me tell you, no one has any sympathy for a filthy dead person. [Which is why I fervently hope I'll die with clean undies on.]

The Other Half thinks I'm being idiotic. What does he know? He's a man.

Besides, I'm convinced there are a lot of us idiots out there. [Maybe even some men.] Are you one of them perchance? You can confess here in total confidence, you know.

*

In more exciting news, the house security alarm has gone off 4 times in the last 2 days, 3 times in the dead of night.

Our vigilant and fearsome guard dog slept through it every single time.

No, that's not true. She did look up, but she didn't stir from her bed. Why bother? The humans are taking care of it. Look at them hurtling down the stairs in their flipflops, all bleary-eyed from sleep. I hope they don't trip and break their necks. Who would take me for a walk then?

Finally, this morning [and I use the term loosely, since it was still pitch black outside], The Other Half proved his mettle and value for the 2nd time this week by dismantling the damn box. [I do hope no burglars are reading this.] It was touch and go and I now have an inkling of how a bomb disposal unit must feel.

"Hey! It's still dark. What am I doing down here? Can I go back to bed now?"

I toyed with the idea of dropping off apology notes in my neighbours' letterboxes but have decided against it. My immediate neighbour knows because she was laughing at us pounding down the stairs, so she says. As for the rest, let them ponder on who the culprit might be who woke them from their slumber. I don't think I can cope with dirty looks on the street at the moment. 

I have enough mental anguish to deal with knowing that, somewhere in greater Sydney, a Telstra man is telling his wife about the filthy pig he met yesterday. And she's no doubt gloating in her gleaming house.

*

And just when I think nothing more can happen.

Our clothes dryer has started to creak and groan while tumbling. I fear, after 10 years of good service, it may be dying.

Fark. Have I offended Some Higher Power in some way?

Note to self ... best vacuum behind the dryer, just in case.

"What's the use of me having 3 baths a week when I have to live in a house full of cobwebs and dander?

I  really hope I don't catch some disease."