There is an all-pervasive smell of bleach in the house, and I am officially knackered. There is a chance that the wife is coming home tomorrow so I have been busy doing a deep clean of certain areas of the house. She will be badly immuno-compromised so best to sterilise stuff. The problem with having a big house is that there is a lot to clean.
If you have a degree in chemistry, clean means something different. I put on my lab gloves and got busy. I can tolerate intense “chemical” odours. Let the chemicals do their job. All hail the great God Unilever. Blessed be his name.
There is a paper towel dispenser in the downstairs loo.
All the remoted controls have been washed in 70% ethanol.
The shower and the toilets are bleached and clean. The flush, door handles and light switches are disinfected. No long hair in the plughole for a while…
Those socks will have to wait. I am seizing up a bit and there is no way I can put them on until I have sat for a while.
I reckon I have mopped something like 60 square metres of floor. I have tried a local cleaning product “Mr Propre” and I am quite impressed.
I moved the mole traps, maybe it was Saturday. One day folds into another and what the outside world calls it, does not seem to matter much. When I was moving the traps, one of the tunnels was more than 30cm deep. That is the deepest mole gallery yet. No mole sign in 48 {?} hours is an indicator. But these little buggers do like to take the piss.
Smells a bit like a swimming pool…
Maybe another 300km is on the cards for tomorrow…
Hmnn..
Traou an Dour 