In my house I am burdened by two floordrobes. (I apologise if I have plagiarized this word. It popped into my head and I thought That’s a great word, but I’m worried it may be someone else’s. If it is then comment here and I’ll credit you).

I, being the washer, drier and ironer of clothes and the hooverer of floors hang my clothes up so as to have access to the floor and to keep the clothes in as crease-free a state as possible. Alternatively I, yes really, I do this, put my dirty clothes in the laundry basket.

Call me weak willed but I do, sometimes, pick clothes from Mavis’s floor and put them in the laundry basket.

Being hormonally challenged I tend to forget what I have and haven’t put through the system so if on a Monday I find I haven’t put in the school uniform well, it’s just too bad. If Whizz says, ‘I’m a bit short of underpants,’ I can wonderpant where they might be. Sadly though, I feel responsible. If they are lost, I may have lost them; I can’t remember. Household chores are disposed of before doing the important things in life. I don’t waste much time thinking about them.

Today (Sunday) is drama group day. Mavis must wear her Curtain Call sweat shirt and leggings.

Half an hour before she is due to leave the house she staggers, wild haired and squinty eyed, into the kitchen and mutters, ‘where’s my sweat shirt?’

Well, it’s not in the clean washing and, after a frantic search, it’s not in the dirty washing. ‘I don’t have it Mavis, have you checked in the drawer?’

‘Yeah, it’s not there.’

The tumble drier is running. I yank it open and rummage among the hot laundry. There’s no bright red polo shirt within. ‘Well it must be in a heap somewhere. It’s certainly not in the laundry.’

‘It’s not.’ Mavis is stubborn so I stump upstairs and rummage again in the dirty washing basket. Not there. ‘Have you checked the other drawers?’

‘Why would it be in another drawer?’

‘Well it’s a top. Look in your top drawer (as opposed to the uniform drawer).’


…Oh, here it is. On my sofa.’

I explode – a bit.

‘Mavis looks accusing. ‘Well don’t blame me; it was camouflaged against my sofa.’

What can you do?


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