Our house is an odd setup, I’m told it is called a Bali arrangement, a downstairs living area, an external staircase, with bedrooms upstairs facing out onto a courtyard. There are no internal stairs, and nothing linking upstairs to downstairs other than the stairs.
Sitting in the bedroom, enjoying a bit of Frankie Boyle, the distinctive smell of chlorine wafts into the room. It is one of my favourite smells, and for a few minutes, I wondered why this pong was coming into the room.
It must be something to do with Mrs Q downstairs.
Venturing down, there is a definite pong of chlorine, and MrsQ is in her cleaning gear.
Did you just mix two cleaning things? A positive response was given! Can you show me – FFS you mixed the concentrated bleach, and the acidic bog cleaner – the ones with the two great big do not mix labels on them.
Checking the bathroom to see how strong it is, full on eyewatering, catching the back of your throat, burning your eyes strong, now wonder it managed to get out the window and upstairs to the bedroom.
Thankfully it is a wet room, so was easy enough to wash down the plug hole with a liberal dose of baking soda on the floor.
Second time she has tried to poison me, last time was when she used half a dozen whole nutmegs in a stew, and I didn’t know what they were until I had scoffed two of them.
