So there I was, minding my very own business, when it occurred to me that there might be a solution to the Stewey "issue" here at Chez Spinster.
"I can call people!", I thought to myself. "I can call people who know how to clean things, and I can ask these people to bring their cleaning machines to help me rid myself once and for all of the "situation" we've developed over the short nine years that Stewey has been watering the planet!"
So at 10 am on the d.o.t., two nice men named Terry and Nick arrived with their cleaning machines to spiff things up once and for all. At first, I was mortified that they would see that I have furniture older than Methuselah His Very Self, but they assured me that they've seen worse and I shouldn't be embarrassed over a piddle or two.
Especially when you consider that Stwey met them at the door wearing his best silk smoking jacket, and promptly offered them a cold beverage. (Martinis, thankyouverymuch. Stirred, not shaken. With twists.)
A few Sure-fit slipcovers later and I'm now suitable for guests. Aunt Chrissy and my Jersey Boy won't know what hit 'em.
We're not even going to talk about the state of NON-STITCHING that's going on around here. If I don't get a needle in my hand this evening, there's going to be hell to pay.
What's new in your world? Hopefully your furniture and carpets are piddle-free and your needles are flying!