A time to Weep (chemical tears from cleaning fluids)

Soooo, busy cleaning day and no nice photo's. All I could find was this one of Finn pretending to be a pineapple.

Please don't anyone offer me a cleaning job when I get home. The first thing I heard this morning was that the manageress told Mary that I really needed to communicate with Mary. The appartment should have been cleaned yesterday - the manager had told me, and I should have told Mary. Then another lady told us we hadn't cleaned her unit properly (there was fluff in her cupboard) when we got it ready for her, and she required a thorough clean now. The other services were for ski teams and so were the two town houses we cleaned - one with 7 bedrooms. The only tidy ski teams seem to be the Japanese ones and everyone else is a minky bampot!

Spook spent some time on the evacuation plan and then went for a long run through the Sticky Forest and over the other side. It was a dampish day, but very comfy for running. He tidied the house and then nursed me back to health after 6.5hrs of cleaning which I suspect is outwith the bounds of health and safety. We are now enjoying a very nice glass of Mud House sauvignon blanc from Marlborough in New Zealand - a gift from Maggie's friend to whom I lent my tennis club key. I am almost fully healed now.

Spook and I are both off tomorrow and are thinking of going to Alex to do some Mountain Biking. I will need to treasure that journey now. Spook says the biking there is like Spain and Mary tells me that when she grew up there, she used to go up into the hills with her horse and her dog and just ride for miles. Around Wanaka, one is limited by the next landowner, but in Alex it just seems to go on forever without bounderies. She said it was a great place to go when your dog was smelly as the hills are covered in Time and the dog always smelt great when she got home. Spook and I will be able to cleanse the poo and the Jif from our pores. Not that we are planning rolling in it...........................

grateful for:

being old enough to not worry about being accused of communication difficulties.

Good wine and a big slab of extremely good chocolate cake- made by my own fair hand, but with a glass of Cathy's special Hot Choc.

a friend thinking that it was my unique sense of humour that called the hoarfrost a whorefost, when she could so easily have just thought I was a bit silly.