Dusty bin

That's in the corner of the kitchen.

Dusty Springfield. That's M watching The Simpsons.

Dusty. Fucking. Everything. That's our house.

We are being sanded. We didn't do much by the way of protection, but given that there's dust in the *fridge* I think it would have been effort wasted anyway. At least when there's lots of it you can see where to Dyson.

Which is one bright side. I am looking for them very hard to stop myself running screaming down the street.

The only other one I can think of is it makes our solitary bottle of red wine look like it's been laid down for years rather than bought on Monday from Londis.

Time to crack it, it must be a good vintage. And my hormones need dulling.

joella