A couple of hours ago I arrived back at my house in Cardiff. Only 3 people have been living there for the last week so I expected it to be relatively tidy. Oh how misguidedly wrong I was.
Now I had already given the scruffier members of the household a warning text explaining that I would be back and that I did not want to walk into a shithole, so in theory there is no excuse for what I came back to. No excuse at all.
However as I opened the door, the past month’s post had collected up, forming a sort of junk mail carpet if you will. No hovering or sweeping had been done, so the floor resembled something one would see on Animal Planet. I bravely stepped into the living room only to find a half-assed attempt at cleaning. Let me spell it out all you lazy people out there: SHOVING STUFF TO THE SIDE OF THE ROOM DOES NOT CONSTITUTE TIDYING UP!!!
It took a while for me to summon the will to enter the kitchen, but once I did I knew I shouldn’t have bothered. If I had biohazard signs then I would have affixed them to the door and set up a shop selling plastic suits outside. I couldn’t put down the brand new microwave as there was no surface to put it down on! The washing up was piled dangerously high and my feet became glued to the floor!
Proof that without me, the house goes to the dogs.
Anyway there was some retribution in that all the shit was moved to outside the perpetrators rooms, so without moving it they cannot go to bed!