As my house is going on the market, I was told by a friend that I needed to clean my carpets, so dutifully rented a Rug Doctor. It was very satisfying (although also somewhat alarming) seeing copious amounts of black gunge build up in the tank. It did make quite a difference, but as the carpets dried, there appeared some very annoying triangular streaks of grey shouting, 'Missed a bit!'. Sadly, I had taken the machine back to the shop, so am now constantly reminded of my mistakes by the grimy patches.
I'm not very keen on my house being so tidy either, it looks rather bland. Everything is going a bit magnolia on me. I also have to keep putting things away, which is an alien concept. Some cruel people at work have suggested I am an alien - strange lights were seen in the sky last night and it was suggested that the mother ship had arrived.
Another friend thinks I've contracted malaria and has been telling me to have a blood test, so this morning I dutifully traipsed off to the doctor and then the hospital for a meeting with the vampire/phlebotomist. He plonked not one, not two, not three, but four vials in the tray and there was a very unpleasant sucking noise, like taking the plug out of a sink, as my arm was emptied. I had a momentary vision of being totally deflated, with just my skin left in a heap on the surgery floor, as the needle drained my insides out. I tried to distract myself by being engrossed in the paper towel holder on the wall. It didn't work, I couldn't but help imagining the syringe becoming larger and larger, like something out of 'Alice Through the Looking Glass', until I was trapped inside, tapping on the sides in panic as the sticky label was applied. I didn't fancy the centrifuge, so was pleased to come back to reality when the little blob of cotton wool was applied and stuck firmly down with some of that papery tape they only seem to have in hospitals - the useless stuff that drops off shortly after.
"I've not seen blood like this before, I wonder where she's from?"
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