It would be accurate to say I am not blessed with good eyesight. In fact, I’m the shortest-sighted person I know. Without glasses or contact lenses, my world is reduced to blurry colours.
I don’t usually wear glasses in the shower, and it is perhaps because of this that I have allowed myself to believe that my bathroom is something other than a breeding ground for E.coli.
After a close inspection on Saturday morning, with just a month of my tenancy remaining, I reluctantly accepted that the purchase of Cillit Bang (what the hell is a Cillit?) and the donning of marigolds would mark the beginning of a long weekend.
I underestimated exactly how much scrubbing would be needed to lift the scummy marks around plug-holes. I endured hours of sweaty labour in a delirious state due to the unavoidable inhalation of bleach-based products in an unventilated environment. Slightly high on bleach, I began making up Yo Momma jokes to take my mind off the tedious scrubbing. My best effort was ‘Yo Momma is so stupid, she thinks ‘Bad Grammar’ is an old lady who stays out all night.’ Pitiful, huh? Still, it did the job, and I’m less pessimistic about getting my deposit back.