postcard:

I like to think there is a word in a language somewhere that expresses
"the (furious) joy derived from cleaning".

entire house is clean and smelling of girly things after the canadian boy and his man-sandals fiasco. i suspect him of doing filthy things with my favourite blanky (by filthy things, I mean he sat on it at one point). but putting a bit of lavender in the rinse cycle made me feel so much better -- if anything fights off grotty boy vibe it would be nanna power. or doing laundry while wearing a tiara. highly recommended.

(oh dear lord, why did he offer to make "house dinner" when what he actually meant was "I have slightly more instant noodles than I really need to eat"?)

Also a certain catharsis from cleaning up after The Very Evil Plumbers. Mostly because I don't think I've ever muttered "die, cockbags" so many times in my entire life. But also a bit because I bastardised Nick Cave and was humming "This is the sweeping song (a song in which to sweep)"

lovelovelove, j.