Rush hour …

Yesterday, it got to the end of the day when I suddenly realized we had friends over for dinner today. And the house was a tip. Ash was therefore sent to bath the boys while I vacuumed and tidied around.

Never have stairs felt or looked more daunting.

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It’s my most hated job, vacuuming the stairs. It’s strenuous and makes muscles I never knew I had hurt. And then there’s the added fact that sock fluff does NOT want to come up, no matter how hard you scrub at it with the hoover end. Faithful Henry isn’t so reliable when it comes to this it seems. Whoever thought shoe-less feet indoors was a good idea has clearly never encountered my husbands socks or my children’s penchant for storing spaghetti and toast crumbs in their pants.

(On a side note, in relation to the stickiness of spaghetti, people say you’re meant to throw it against the wall to know when it’s properly cooked; I can never get this to work (it’s a sore point …) Does that mean I’ve been eating uncooked spaghetti my whole life?)

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