The day started with a whimper and ended with more of a bang. Appropriate, I suppose.
After Ronnie and I had had some breakfast, I headed round to Verity’s to feed Hedonism and change his litter tray. I didn’t think it took me that long, but it seems it took just long enough. When I got back, Ronnie was standing in the middle of a large frothing puddle that was masquerading as the kitchen.
“I didn’t mean it,” she kept repeating, without explaining what it was she didn’t mean.
A churning sound followed by more frothing guided me to the source of the problem. Ronnie had been trying to do some laundry.
“Why didn’t you just leave it for me?” I asked, a little exasperated.
“It didn’t seem right. Besides, I can’t just sit around all day doing nothing. It’s not in my nature!” she wailed.
From what I can deduce, through the suds that spilled over the entire kitchen floor and threatened to continue into the living room, Ronnie forgot that she had already put some washing liquid into the machine so added at least a second dose. I say at least, because the mound of soapy goodness that filled the kitchen looked like half a bottle’s worth of suds. Ronnie isn’t sure, though she thinks it’s possible. The machine had then started its load with equal quantities of water and liquid soap and the inevitable had happened.
I stopped the washing machine to prevent the generation of further bubbles and started scooping up armfuls of suddy nothingness to place in the sink, while Ronnie stood watching me from the living room doorway.
“Do you want some help?” she asked, rather tentatively.
I’m normally quite a calm person so perhaps Ronnie was a little shocked to see me quite so agitated. Either way, she interpreted my scowl as an invitation to stand right out of the way to the point of being invisible, while I continued to scoop and then, once the suds had been largely moved, to mop. By the time I had finished, the physical exercise had drained me of my irritation and as i filled the kettle, I called out to Ronnie, “Want a coffee now?”
She tiptoed to the doorway and made me jump. “Don’t you want me to move back round to Verity’s?”
Poor Ronnie! I explained, over coffee and some mis-shapen almond petticoat tails, that I had been a little frustrated by the mess because I’m not used to it anymore – it’s the sort of thing that George would have done aged about 5, though I didn’t phrase it like that to Ronnie – and that I really didn’t mind doing her washing. She looked a bit doubtful at first, but eventually cheered up. She even offered to do the ironing and just laughed when I rather quickly said no, absolutely not.
Once I’d rinsed out the dispenser, there was about enough soap left in the system for a wash, so I had to drain the machine and start the load again. It was a rather lengthy short wash, but at least we got it finished in the end.
The afternoon was bound to be more relaxing after that, even though it included a foray into George’s room only to discover that he’d shoved a bag of oranges onto his underwear shelf in his wardrobe just before he went back to university; that was a discovery I would have happily left for someone else i.e. George. Then, this evening, once the OH was back from work and we’d eaten a light support of sausages, eggs, chips, mushrooms, black pudding, mushy peas and gravy (only the OH ate the full combo), we left Ronnie at home and headed into town to watch the fireworks. They were quite good, but they were just fireworks, nothing else - I’m looking forward to the village bonfire and fireworks rather more.