Saturday, and another family visit. Which means a morning of housework woe, ensuring that the place is entirely spotless and free from anything that might offend the in-laws.
If they're so obsessed with seeing a tidy house, I say give 'em a duster when they arrive and tell 'em to get on with it. Controversial one this, and a suggestion which did not meet with Mrs Duck approval while struggling to roll the dogs up in carpet "to stop hairs from getting everywhere" and dipping the fish in acrylic plastic "the same, only with scales".
And just when you think you've finished, a trip up to the bog to cut off a length is met with the shout "Don't go using the toilet, I've just put bleach down."
Way to tell me just after the splashback from the explosion of a large, brown depth charge, followed by the tingly freshness normally associated with brushing your teeth.
If my arse goes blond, there'll be hell to pay.