"The best thing is" said Beatrice, tempting fate terribly "That's it now. Winter must be over".
We waited for the freak ice storm, but it did not come. Maybe tomorrow.
In the meantime the bright spring sunlight, which is a joyful, wonderful thing, gives me several problems, what with being a mardy old cow. The first is the house. There's a reason spring cleaning is called spring cleaning, and it's because the spring sunlight makes you realise just what a nest of FILTH you (I) have been living in all winter. Ye gods. I thought it was bad, but now I can see it's .. well. I was going to show you what I found behind the recycling box, but apparently I can't, because the thing that looked like an enormous dead spider clearly WASN'T DEAD. Nice. You'll just have to take my word for it. The not-dead spider is just one of an endless series of housekeeping unpleasantnesses that I now feel I must tackle, and they all seem inextricably linked in a wearisome way. If I want to get the front shutter mended, I must dispose of the Christmas tree in case the landlady takes exception to it, wash the windows, and deal with the chip on the bath. If it does get mended, I'll be able to see the state of the sofa, and I know I won't like it. Can't I just sit here in the sun? Maybe go and get a Cornetto?
Worse, even, than the house is the sight that greets me in the (smeary, toothpaste flecked) mirror, where the sun also gives a new, entirely unwelcome clarity. Who the fuck is that old woman and what is she doing in my house (and why hasn't she hoovered, if she must be here)? It's not that I let myself go over the winter, exactly. More like I pushed myself of a cliff into a sea of butter with salt crystals, bouncing off the jagged cliffs of Daim bar and Hula Hoop. Alcohol should also be included in this ridiculous simile, but I can't be arsed to crowbar it in. Whatever. I look "rough as a badger's arse", as my former cleaner (wish she was here too) used to say. Particular problem areas: jowls (brrrr), general skin tone and everything south of my neck. This was definitely the winter my upper arms became unfit for public exposure and the rest? Well. I will draw a veil. I would, if I could, draw a veil over my entire person and wrap it five times around myself in billowing, forgiving folds. I might need to do just that as my clothes are all mysteriously too small. I'd say they shrunk in the wash but they're all dirty too.
It's impossible to know where to start, so I started by going to Di (substandard Belgian Boots, but with more household cleaning products) and buying a kilo of Epsom salts, something to descale the dishwasher, dental floss, bath oil that promises "forme et vitalité" (I'll need them), some cotton wool and an economy sized Cif. Then I drank some juice. That seems to cover most bases, apart from the ones that require actual effort on my part. As long as I don't get my products mixed up, that might sting.
Any spring cleaning or spring grooming tips? Bear in mind I have neither 1. money, nor 2. a shred of inclination to get off my arse.