Tuesday, March 18, 2008

Out, damned flat!

I love my flat.

But god, am I glad to be rid of it.

But it was a painful goodbye what with gas oven headaches and non-stop cleaning late into the night. I was up til 3am Friday morning putting sealant around my bath and didn't get to leave the place until 10.45pm on Friday night after a back-breaking effort to make the place 'professionally' clean.

All had gone well on the cleaning front, until the last possible minute. All I had left to do was hoover the hallway. Seagrass matting attracts dust in its crevices, and the hallway had lots of it, having been hidden under boxes for the last 4 weeks, so good suction was going to be necessary. I even take the main attachment off so I'm just left with the tube, to really try and get into the nooks and crannies.

Except about a minute into combing the carpet with the hoover nozzle, I realise nothing is happening. I have been using the hoover all evening around the flat, to get into the backs of shelves and wardrobes, to whizz round skirting boards and picture rails. Turns out it's had enough. The thing is so hot the casing feels like it's melting and there is no suction. What a time to die!

I resort to using a dustpan and brush with a quick, flicking action to unearth the more stubborn bits of dust stuck in the carpet. The really tough bits to budge get the old toothbrush treatment.

An hour later and I have hand-hoovered my carpet. I am exhausted. I load up with cans of diet coke and a pack of M&Ms (my Friday night dinner) and drive the three hours to Hereford. At 2am I collapse into bed, having worked out I have been asleep for only 4 hours out of the previous 43.

The next day my right arm starts to complain. I've overdone it by my flicky dustpan action on the carpet and my lymphs can't cope. I still can't raise my right arm in a classic Nazi salute. Not that there's much call for that, but I like to be ready for any eventuality...

But I'm out. And the tenants are in.

And noone's rung up yet to say they've found a dustball in the corner, or the boiler's blown up, or the new cooker doesn't work, or they've simply changed their mind.

Now all that remains is my scans (Tuesday) and my postponed bike test (Wednesday) and a whole heap of paperwork for the Inland Revenue.

1 comment:

Irene Henning said...

Am worried about all this cleaning. You're beginning to sound like a Dutch housewife... ;-)