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'My Corduroyed Life' - Mark A's Journal
Pointless post alert…
I was thinking, I end all my emails to friends with a kiss. So why shouldn’t I do it here?
Have fun,
M x
Current mood:
chipper.Current music: Sealed With A Kiss by Jason Donovan.
You learn some interesting things working at The School of Languages…
I was talking to one of the Lecturers in Spanish, and I asked him whether he thought in English or in Spanish. After a brief mull, he replied that if he’s being creative or emotional he thinks in Spanish, and if he needs to think about facts or figures, he thinks in English. Apparently, his two languages are suitable for different mental tasks. Interesting I thought.
Tenga diversión,
M x
Current mood:
good.Current music: Oye Mi Canto by Gloria Estefan.
Cleaning is a nightmare!
As regular readers and people who’ve been round will know, I live in a tiny flat: main room, small bathroom, and small kitchen is all I have. Some may call it a ‘studio’, but we all know it’s a bedsit. Keeping such a small place clean and tidy should be child’s play, right? It probably is, but I’m Mark Adams.
My cousins Sam and Sharon do not live in bedsits. They’re about ten years older than me, and have husbands, children, and huge, beautiful houses. Houses that they keep immaculate. To my horror, after coming out to them, they decided that they want to come to Manchester to visit the gayness village. I have no problem with them coming out for gayness (in fact, I’m looking forward to it), but crashing at my place?! Noooooooooo! Up until now, I’ve managed to make sure that none of the rich ones on my Dad’s side know that I live in poverty.
Okay, I decided, damage reduction. If I can make the place immaculately clean and tidy, then I will at least not look like a complete scrubber. I decided to dedicate a whole evening to gutting my grotto (emphasis on grot) to make it as nice as it possibly can be. The metaphoric polishing of a shit.
Armed with Jif, bleach, Mr Sheen, scourers, cloths, and a strong resolve I delved in. Even listening to The Wonder Stuff whilst doing it, did not make this a pleasant task. I had no idea that dirt can get into places you never even notice. I mean who thinks to clean the back of the bathroom door? It was riffy. It was at this point that having lived there three years, I’d never wiped down the bathroom door. Three things: whoops, ew, and who would think to wipe down the bathroom door?
Two threadbare scourers and four ruined cloths later, the bathroom was spotless, and the kitchen sparkled. I’d found ming in places I’d never thought of, and never even noticed. I’d scrubbed until my arm hurt, and then scrubbed some more. Plants were watered, week old washing up was done, surfaces were disinfected, tiles were jiffed, etc, etc. I’d put in more effort in cleaning them than ever before, was knackered, and was confident that the rooms looked as presentable as they were ever going to. Then I noticed the time. The kitchen and bathroom had taken me four hours! I still had the whole of the main room to do: dusting, hovering, tidying, and goodness knows what else. I was also knackered.
So I went to bed, and decided to do the rest tonight.
Got a text this morning:
Hi Mark. Weve booked into a b n b near you instead. Sam x
Have fun,
M x
Current mood:
annoyed.Current music: Oye Como Va by Santana.