In an effort to improve my lot ……. and my
home….. I have embarked on a house-cleaning program. By anyone’s standards, my
cleaning abilities are not good and rarely put to the test: the Hoover fights
back and my wipe always turns into a smear. When I was more gainfully employed
I occasionally gave myself the luxury gift of a cleaner; a random 4 hours now
and then to wrangle the dust-bunnies and unleash the Mr. Muscle. I have friends
who employ cleaners so I usually sub-let one of theirs.
But now I have neither the money nor the
justification for such luxuries. I hate cleaning so much I sometimes just paint
over the dirt instead, as I have recently done with my hall because I found some
un-used paint under the sink. However, I am not in a position to paint every
room right now and so I broke the work-to-do, down into bite size jobs; one a
day. Feeling rather pleased having ticked off bathroom window, my home now filled with the sweet scent of polish, I decided to reward myself with a cup of coffee. I used the coffee
pot I was given by my now defunct employer, one of those Italian silver ones
that screws together and sits on the hob. After awhile I began to wonder why it
was taking so long. And what the smell was. Steam was emanating from the pot
but no coffee was bubbling up. And something was definitely burning. Then I
realised I had loaded it with coffee but forgotten the water. I tried to
manoeuvre it from the gas but the black plastic handle fell off having melted.
In an effort to stop the pot toppling over I burnt the tips of seven of my ten
fingers, then had to wrestle it to the sink with a smouldering tea towel. I
unscrewed it wearing oven-mitts and released the coffee grounds, turned to
glowing embers. I’d made a mini-brazier. My home is now filled instead with the
acrid scent of burnt coffee and plastic.
