In preparation for our house being shown to the general public (can you feel my terror oozing out t'internets at you?) I have had to tidy up, proper Kim and Aggie style tidy. This is difficult as we are clearly running the Leicestershire branch of slobs'r'us, get your slatternly habits ere. I can't even imagine it, ever, being presentable enough to actually sell. So I have had to channel my inner Anthea. This is difficult as my general default state is "can't be @rsed"
The husband is scared.
The children are very scared.
There is a whole rantie auntie post about the state of Beautiful Baby Daughter's bedroom and because I am a kind auntie I am not sharing the story, the photos and the smell with you. You're welcome.
Whilst clearing out 13 years worth of accumulated crap, I came across what I thought was an empty perfume gift box, you know the kind, the ones your granny gives you at Christmas. Anyhoo, I was all ready to recycle it but when I removed the plastic liner, I found a box of contraband, things my children would not have wished their mother to find, so had hidden in an empty box. There were things your auntie really did not want to even think about, never mind find.
In the middle of all the stuff they wouldn't want me to find was a harmonica.
Yes, that's right, a harmonica.
And that leads us neatly to why I was bemused and confused.
Tuesday, 5 March 2013
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