Have you noticed how hypnotic washing machines can be. The swish, swish of the clothes going round, the movement of the drum and the gentle whirr of the motor can soothe the most savage of breasts.
As you can tell,I like doing the laundry. There’s an art to it. Its not just about throwing in the washing, willy nilly with any old soap powder. You need a good quality powder and a fabric conditioner. The conditioners vital as it not only softens the fabric it also destroys any lingering odours.
My wife, Emma jokes that I have OCD.
“You don’t need to clean every day darling, once or twice a week is fine!”
“But you work so hard sweetheart. I can’t just sit around while you work all the hours god sends”, I say kissing her on the lips.
The house needs to be perfect. Next time you visit one of your friend’s homes look under the sofa or the bed and you will see dust, pet hairs and heaven knows what else. Most people including my darling Emma are Lazy, they clean the visible places but work on the basis that what the eye doesn’t see the heart doesn’t grieve over, hence the filth under so many beds and sofas!
I always wipe all surfaces. You can’t be to careful about bacteria and other things. A damp cloth with just a trace of fairy liquid works wonders on the mattress.
Emma is so untidy. I’m forever picking up her shoes and storing them neatly on the shoe rack. You never see me throw my dirty underware on the floor but I’ve lost count of the amount of times I’ve found my darling Emma’s bra or knickers randomly lying under the bed or in the bathroom. I’m sure its true that women are generally more house proud than men. I guess I’m the exception that proves the rule.
Lots of Emma’s friends are jealous.
“I wish my Tom was like that” I heard Paula say only the other day. Emma just smiled and squeezed my hand under the restaurant table.
She’ll be home soon. One last tidy up before the lady of the house returns. The living room looks great. Its wonderful what effect Bees Wax has on the furniture.
Everything looks good in the bedroom. Freshly laundered sheets smelling of fabric conditioner and all the clothes neatly put away in the wardrobes, one wardrobe for me and another for Emma. Everything in it’s place, what a wonderful husband you are John!
How could I have missed them? A pair of Emma’s shoes underneath the righthand wardrobe, at the back by the wall. I vacuumed, I always do but the vacuum cleaner must have pushed them to the back without me noticing. Pick them up and take them through to the shoe rack in the hall.
Emma’s key in the door, I must go and greet my darling wife. What a funny sight I must be rushing to the door a pair of women’s shoes in my hand!
“Hello darling” I say putting the shoes on the little phone table just inside the front door and taking Emma into my arms.
“Hi sweetheart, its lovely to see you to” she says running her fingers through my hair. “Who’s are those? Hold on Jenny has a pair exactly like that, I was in John Lewis with her when she bought them” she says taking up the shoes. “Yes, I distinctly remember her buying these …”. She trails off her eyes boring into mine. I look away. Shit, to be caught out by a pair of bloody black stilettos when I’ve meticulously cleaned and tidied the house from top to bottom. Not stains on the bedsheets or lipstick on the wine glass but a damn pair of women’s shoes, oh shit!
Jenny fragrant with the scent of lavender, my beautiful Jenny kicking her shoes with gay abandon under the wardrobe and diving into bed. I love high heels. Jenny likes what she calls “sensible” shoes so she comes in stilettos to make me happy but leaves in flats. I remember her slipping on her “sensible” shoes before leaving. I didn’t think anything about the stilettos. Bang goes my marriage and all over a pair of fucking stilettos.
K Morris - Poet 