Butter-fingered washerwoman

I seem to be going through a particularly clumsy phase just recently. On Thursday I saw fit to drop a nearly full bottle of perfume on the bathroom floor. I got it out the cupboard and then my fingers just sort of stop gripping it. Of course it shattered glass everywhere, and left a perfume puddle. Decided I didn't have time to clean it up and just shut the bathroom door and left it until I got in from work. The house smelled lovely and perfume-y.

Then last night I decided to shake my bottle of toner but without the lid on and having failed to put the cotton wool ball over the top of it. Grr. I either need to invest in cheaper cosmetics or I need to get a grip.

It would appear however that I've now moved on to kitchen items. I threw my spoon on the floor this morning for no apparent reason. I wonder if I'm getting mad cow disease.

Anyway, apart from the spoon incident I have managed not to drop or spill anything else yet today. Even managed to get two loads of washing on and all the detergent in the machine where it should be. I sorted through all the washing this morning. For just two adults we seem to generate a huge amount of dirty laundry. I don't know where it all comes from. I can't remember wearing all those clothes. I didn't even realise we owned so many clothes. I think Mrs Miele is going to be working hard this weekend. Of course, doing lots of washing means that tomorrow there will be lots of ironing to do. The pleasure of seeing the dirty laundry basket empty is tempered somewhat by the morale-zapping sight of a full ironing basket. Hey-ho.