Oh the weird things I get up to

So, I recently had a wedding anniversary. And, by recently, I mean several months ago. Which should probably tell you a lot about how organised I am about writing stuff.

Anyway I had a wedding anniversary and you'd be surprised at how many people asked me “what, you celebrate anniversaries?” (Including family, friends and, most especially, my employers who are most put out that I can't work extra for such piffling little reasons – though not so piffling for my colleagues. Whyyy is that I wonder?)

And, of course, they're right. In Gaytopia we don't celebrate anniversaries, rather we gather round and have an orgy to celebrate the day we pledged to destroy loving families.

(Actually lines like this always worry me. As a gay British lawyer, not only do I enjoy sarcasm but I'm almost legally required to use it every opportunity, but you KNOW there is some fool out there, probably belonging to some organisation with “values” “family” and “tradition” in its name, looking at such posts and yelling “I KNEW IT!” before running to tell his friends/congregation/political party all about those dirty dirty gays. Ah well, those guys were never going to be fans of mine anyway).

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So, I've been ordered to have a lazy day

One of the things people tend to assume about me is that I'm tidy. It's a reasonably assumption – I hate to have my clothes or hair mess with. I'm obsessively clean – I've been known to run through the house yelling “I MUST WASH MY HANDS!” (and not for any reason you're thinking of you dirty dirty people). One of the main impediments to my baking flurries is the constant need to wash my hands and wipe down the unit tops before I'm finished.

So, yeah, clean on a slightly over the top level.

But tidy? No. Not really. If the thing is clean, I don't care where thing is. So those unit tops may be meticulously clean – but also scattered with knives, bowls, cannisters of flour, sugar any anything else left lying around. I can make tea or coffee, meticulously clean up every spill, then leave the coffee and the sugar out.

Beloved isn't clean. In fact I end up doing most of the cleaning simply because I re-do anything he does anyway (something that annoys him considerably). But he does hate things lying around and I often hear him grumbling in my wake hiding things from me (he says he's putting them away – but if he were wouldn't I be able to find them afterwards? His logic is flawed!)

Anyway, today my concentration span is AWOL. Going over the house and looking at the detritus and piecing together my distracted memory what I THINK happened is:

I got up to make a coffee and saw that that kitchen windows were dirty, I got out all the glass cleaning stuff, started then was distracted by the floor, so left the glass cleaners and got a mop. This lead to me dropping the mop and taking out the vacuum cleaner then deciding the living room carpet was dirty, so leaving that and getting the carpet cleaner. I think then I decided it was silly to clean carpets if you hadn't dusted first, so I abandoned the carpet cleaner, took everything off the shelves and mantle and went in search of duster and polish, which I got out. But then I think I decided to clean the kitchen hob – I've moved the metal grills so I must have. But that lead to cleaning the bathroom (both are cleaned with bleach, see? Tangential association!) and taking out those cleaning products which in turn lead to taking down the bathroom curtains to checking the other room's curtains – and then deciding I'd done enough and deserved a break...

At some point in the proceedings I made and lost a sandwich which is now in the study. I'm not sure why there are 3 piles of books off the shelves. Either it was part of the dusting or a need to alphabetise, I'm not even sure any more.


So Beloved walks in and sees a lot of things kinda semi cleaned and lots of, well, stuff, lying around where I abandonned them.

I swear it all made perfect sense at the time. Beloved suggests most strongly I have a lazy, relaxed Sunday. This sounds like a good idea