LAST week, after having had our bedroom freshly painted, I spilled a cup of tea.
Okay, ‘spilled’ is a little misleading. I actually kind of ‘shoulder-barged’ the cup, which was sat minding its business on the window sill, propelling it into the air where it somersaulted around several times like an Olympic gymnast. The result was a bit like one of those blood spatters that shows up under UV lighting at the scene of a particualrly gruesome crime.
It was everywhere. It had flown in directions I didn’t realise flying liquid could; over three out of four newly painted ‘Dulux: Night Jewel 5’ walls. I tried in vain to clean them, but the damage was simply too much. My boyfriend shot me a withering look and called the painter, who generously agreed to come back and repaint the offending walls.
Two nights after he’d repainted...I ‘spilled’ another cup of tea, soaking my side of the bed and splashing a nearby wall. I didn’t have the heart to tell my boyfriend, so I quickly grabbed a towel, dried off the floor and wall and, luckily, by the morning, there was no hint of this latest accident.
He probably DID wonder why we had to spend the night on his side of the bed.