And a Partridge in a Pear Tree

Today I decided was THE day. A day Id been putting off for ….... well, for a VERY long time.

Today, I was going to muck out Master Macs bedroom!

I know, at aged 13 he IS old enough to do it himself. Either that or I should just let him live in his own squalor. The trouble is, Master Mac rather likes squalor.

I'm no domestic goddess myself but I have standards (pretty low ones I'll admit) but I like to occasionally be reminded what the carpet looks like (or had I stripped his floorboards? I can't remember).

Anyway, today I was feeling brave and so, armed with industrial strength bin bags, rubber gloves and a face mask, I opened the door.

I shut it again very quickly and stood outside breathing heavily for several minutes working up the courage to try again.

Slowly, with one eye closed, I gave the door a push, it promptly rebounded off the pile of dirty washing stacked behind it and smacked me in the face.

Now we were at WAR!!!

I squared my shoulders, assumed my best 'don't mess with me' expression and strode into the room. The FIRST thing I trod on was half an Easter Egg, the damn thing somehow managed to encase my foot like a chocolate foot glove, I hopped around trying to shake it of (a little like the cat when she's trodden in something unfortunate in the litter tray). That was when, with my other foot, I trod on John Cena (not the real one, that might have been a little softer and squidgier).

My scream of agony brought the dog pounding up the stairs only to be confronted with me (by now, face down on the bed), one foot sporting half a pound of Cadburys finest, the other the imprint of a WWE champions belt. He skidded to halt obviously unsure exactly what his role was in all of this.

Being a dog and being male he quickly hoovered up the shards of chocolate scattered over the floor and shot back downstairs again licking his lips.

I lay there for a while gathering my thoughts. Should I remove the egg from my foot and replace it in the foil for Master Mac to eat later??? Should I just shovel EVERYTHING into bin bags and tell him we were going for the minimalist look from now on?

I decided on the former, (I shall obviously tell him AFTER he's eaten the egg).

Master Mac's room is looking slightly emptier. That would be the removal of one and a half bin bags of rubbish, three loads of washing, seven cups, four glasses and a potato peeler.

I'm just taking a well earned break before round two, wish me luck …...................