12 January 2016, 9 am
But before I do my talk, I must do some cleaning at the flat. I arrive especially early, because I am out of practice on the domestic goddess front, having spent Christmas in bed being pathetic, so I may need time to acclimatise. First I discover a vacuum thingy, which is for making the carpet flatter, and also for pushing the fluff and manky bits into corners so that nobody sees them any more, except people who like looking in corners, who deserve all they get. Then I discover a cloth thingy and a pretty-smelling squirty bottle, which you can use together to make your surfaces smell pretty, only not the carpeted surfaces or the ones inside drinking vessels – for these there is another squirty bottle labelled Washing-Up Liquid. So I flatten the carpet and push fluff around for a bit, until I am bored of it and the vacuum thingy’s flex won’t reach any further. Then I wave the cloth thingy around in the bathroom until everything is wet, at which point I figure it must be clean. Finally, I empty the rubbish from a first rubbish-receiving receptacle means into a second rubbish-receiving receptacle means, said second rubbish-receiving receptacle means being hidden under the sink so that you don’t have to worry about it any more. In the middle of the night, the Pixies will collect everything from the second, hidden rubbish-receiving receptacle means and take it somewhere else. I think. This, I tell myself, is a good morning’s work. Maybe I was not out of practice after all.
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