I’m sure you’ve all heard the expression ‘men are from Venus, women are from Mars’.
Well I actually think my wife Sarah is from another galaxy altogether.
She likes our house to be just so. She’s very proud of it and at times will even follow the dogs around with a dustpan and brush to catch any stray hairs.
I’ve even watched her trim the edges of the grass in the garden with a pair of kitchen scissors to get it looking nice
Even my own wardrobe cannot escape. Woe betide me if I don’t fold up my jumpers and fleeces neatly. An untidy pile of clothes is not allowed.
I’ve even watched her trim the edges of the grass in the garden with a pair of kitchen scissors to get it looking nice.
I, on the other hand, am less fussy. I’m not that bothered about tidiness.
I’m clean, but not tidy. I’ll let a mess build up then, after a couple of weeks, blitz the house tidy again.
I find it too exhausting to be tidy every day. Sometimes you just want to kick off your shoes and leave them wherever they fall.
So if Sarah is so orderly in the house, why then does she let the car get in such a state?
I don’t just mean untidy. If you put the car in a washing machine and imagined what the interior would look like after, with stuff everywhere, that’s her car.
She drives the family wagon, a Ford S-Max. I have a 5 series BMW and it gleams.
The black interior is immaculate, nothing is on display and as you get inside the car you are greeted by a pleasant waft of leather.
I clean both cars. Mine takes minutes, Sarah’s a few hours.
I have to jet wash the bird poo, tree sap and splats of mud off the exterior first.
Inside, removing wrappers, plastic bags, CD cases and congealed sweets takes forever. Only then can the vacuuming and dusting begin.
I have my work cut out next time as when I last inspected the car there was an upside-down flowerpot in the passenger footwell.
She suggested that I live in my car and she lives in our house.
So I’ve suggested that she moves into her car and I’ll move my pristine BMW into the house!