that on leaving a relatively clean house to be cleaned, after a massive whinge to your friend/cleaning company owner about the crappy standard of cleaning that has been tolerated for the last six months because for three of those I couldn’t see my feet, let alone pick anything up off the floor and as if Chef would do it as he is a boy and would simply turn his undies inside out to get another days wear if it meant doing less washing and the boys would be so thrilled to recreate Lord of the Flies right here in the living room as if they’d even notice all.the.crap. while the other three months involved delivering and marvelling at a new family member, the best one so far, how much better they clean but also FINALLY being able to isolate a smell that has been lurking in our back open-plan-living-really-sucks area.
We came in to a really.clean.house. tonight and it almost made me gag. My suspicions were correct. Not only do ridiculous shiny surfaces and “where is all our crap?” panic make me nauseous, it was The Sink. My recent foray into drain cleaning gels (I dropped the last bottle of standard Drano granules on the floor in Woollies so had to take the gel instead) obviously weren’t enough because OHMYGOD the smell.
I poured more fish-killing, environment-destroying pollutants down there to try.and.make.it.go.away. but to no avail.
Then I realised, for yes, the first time, that there is a screw in the middle of the drain grate.
I took it off.
I almost spewed.
Down that very gag-inducing pit of funk smell.
Thick gungy gunk was all wedged under the flat part (before the holes in the grate section. Go on. Look at your drain. I know you know what I mean).
I mean. Are we that filthy? Has anyone else ever EVER had the need to actually take their sink apart to get rid of the “I think maybe a rat died under the house” smell?
I’m actually embarrassed. Which naturally explains why at 1, yes ONE am, that’s right the one o’clock in.the.morning. I’m sitting here telling you all about it.