On being heartless
I have been somewhat busy today.
Sunday, as you know, was Herself’s 70th birthday. The house filled and the house stayed full. There were women everywhere. There was only one bloke apart from myself and the cat, so we bunged the cat into a bedroom and the two of us retired to the shed with a bottle of whiskey.
Yesterday, to put it mildly, the house was in a bit of a state. There were still a couple of guests who were wandering around the garden looking lost so I steered them gently out the gate and decided to leave the cleaning up to Herself. Unfortunately she was comatose all day so I just left it and her.
Today she’s into the hangover phase [fuck! I remember the old days when she could handle her gargle and a bottle or two of vodka was nothing!], and as a result is unapproachable. I decided that maybe something should be done as I was tired of tripping over balloons and empty plates and glasses. Also the huge banner someone had stuck on the wall had fallen down taking some of the paintwork with it. Never use Sellotape on a painted wall.
Now there was one small problem. My Darling Daughter obviously at some stage in proceedings had decided it would be a bit of a wheeze to pour a packet of confetti all over Herself. This was fine and dandy, and I’m sure everyone had a great laugh but now the fucking stuff is everywhere.
The confetti is just tiny silver hearts and it is now throughout the house. It is in my clothing, up the stairs, on the animals, on any flat surface you care to mention and out into the garden. Walking though the house at night is weird – thousands of little shimmery things beneath my feet as if I were walking on a star-field. They are impossible to pick up is they are so thin.
I whacked out the vacuum cleaner and did the floor, the tables, the walls, the surfaces, the toilet bowl [I did say they got everywhere?] and the dog. I didn’t bother vacuuming the garden though. I know my limits. The place is now relatively heart free, but no doubt they will continue to appear for months and years to come. The inside of the dustbin looks like a picture of the Andromeda Nebula.
On the plus side, I found an unopened bottle of Prosecco Spumante.
My little reward for a morning’s work?
Hi GD,
bought a car once from a couple who used to go ballroom dancing and apparently the sequinned dress would be laid on the back seat of the car .
How a few sequins transferred from the rear of the car to the interior of the house is a mystery.Only a few were visible in the rear of the car(and they were duly vacuumed up)
Suffice to say that the odd sequin was making itself known, sparkling in the carpet pile 12-15 years later.
Forewarned-forearmed !
I’m just waiting to see if any turn up in dog turds. It wouldn’t surprise me.
Very fond of the old Prosecco meself.
If you want to upgrade to Champagne, I recommend Ayala. It’s made by Bollinger. Tastes like Bollinger Grand Annee. You can’t tell the difference IMHO. Half the price tho’
I was never a wine sort of person, except a) when forced by social occasions or b) when it’s lying around waiting to be drunk. Herself like a bottle or two so I’ll see if anyone in the area sells Ayala. Should be worth a few brownie points?
Incidentally have you been following the shenanigans over at the old Ranting Penguin site? Rickie’s in overdrive apparently with teams of people queuing up just to piss him off. Apparently I’ve been leading the charge, although the lack of my nice shiny blue gravatar is a bit of a give away!
Can’t say he didn’t have it coming can he?
What became of the old Troll’s Lair site as a matter of interest?
Heh! I read your little piece the other day. I meant to comment but it slipped my mind. The Troll’s Lair is still there but someone has marked it as “private”.
Oh! I just checked and it’s public again. Whoever is running it must be just messing around?
Hi Grandad,
Belated birthday greetings to Herself. Have you checked the cat for insidious intrusitions – such as confetti?
I’m checking his poo too. Isn’t life fun?