Monday, January 17, 2005

Failed Experiments

Last night saw the first official guests arrive at the Lucy Aughney B&B, located in the heart of lush Dublin suburb, Santry. Lucky first-time guests were Ms Margaret O'Neill and Mrs Joanne Gillane (nee O'Neill), vacationing overnight from Tramore. Said Mrs Gillane to questions posed by journalists: 'I knew it was going to be a dump, but seriously: mould in the bathroom? And what's with the weird brown stains on the sofa?'
Said proprietor, feisty Ms Lucy Aughney: 'Bite me.'

Yes, friends, last night I had Mags and her sister to stay. This morning they flew out to Swansea where Mags is interviewing for a course, and if my fiendish plan went correctly, they will never ever return to my home again. Despite early troubles on the way up from Waterford, where Lucy managed to forget where she actually lived and had trouble directing Joanne due to a small problem with telling her right from her left, we arrived fairly unscathed outside the pile of rubble I call home late yesterday evening.
'It's not that bad' declared Joanne kindly. 'I mean, it's got walls and a roof at least.'
'And windows!' helped Mags. 'And a door.'
Wait till you get inside, fools, I thought.

Upon entering, I sped instantly up the stairs with a bottle of cif to clean the bathroom and forbade anyone to enter the kitchen before I had a chance to hide all ketchup and curry stained plates in a press. 'Alright' I announced once I had this done. 'It's not so bad now.' Only to find the girls perched warily in the sitting room surrounded by empty beer cans and congealed taco-fries. Joanne was peering doubtfully at a stain on the couch. 'It's soy sauce!' I insisted. I hurried them back into the car to get something to eat and hissed at the boys to do something about the mess while I was gone. They didn't of course. They hate me.

'Do we have to go back?' asked Joanne sadly as we sat eating chips in the car.
'Yes.' I said sternly. 'It's not so bad, it's only messy really. Like, I don't think you could actually catch anything.'
'It's cos it's a student house, Jo. You're used to more civilized people.' Mags insisted.
'Eh, no, actually, it's not. 'Cos only David is a student, see? The rest of us are normal.'
Joanne looked unimpressed.
'It's 'cos they're boys, Joanne; they're messy by nature. You know the way boys are!'
'My husband was never like that. He's a boy.'
'Yes, but before the civilizing influence of you came into his life, I'm sure he was inclined to leave the odd take away rotting on the coffee table for a few days, hmmm?'

'You and Aoife aren't boys.' Mags pointed out.
'Yes, but we are very busy. And we're teaching the boys a lesson about cleanliness. We're not cleaning till they cop on and clean too.'
'Really? Is it working?'
'Well, we've been teaching them a lesson since November,, probably not.'

1 comment:

Anonymous said...

A guy will never clean up as you have discovered. Best bet is to simply set fire to everything they own. Hey presto: it's clean AND you're warm. Nice!
- stephenesque