So, yesterday evening we were decorating the tree, Santa Maria Novella candles burning, twinkling tea lights in white Danish porcelain holders, Messiah on in the background, twinkling lights, fire blazing. My stepmother was threading decorated biscuits, the Bearded One was asleep in an armchair, Fingers was aligning the glitter balls at precise 15cm intervals and Lashes was trying to sneak plastic lizards onto the tree and make small holes in present wrapping paper. The CFO was doing something complex with tools. It was idyllic. Something had to give.
How have I spent this evening? Clearing out 5 cubic metres of kitchen cupboard from a plague of maggoty (moth?) larvae. I have bleach burn to hands, throat, eyes. I have said so many obscene things I am expecting a thunderbolt any minute (after all, a plague of white writhing larvae in your rice is pretty badass and biblical). I smell of death and cereal and I just feel dirty, inside and out. Dirty. But seriously, you fuckers. If I ever see your sorry wriggling motherfucking asses in that fucking cupboard again, I will blast you the fuck into dust with my motherfucking AK47 ("Adritt power spray" cleaner, in hot pink spray gun format). Noone messes with my fucking ground almonds and gets away with it.
Yeah. Fuck that shit man.
Now I am going to have a nice camomile tea. Thank you.