The Reluctant Phenomenon

As previously stated somewhere on here, get some relatively crap weather and no-one goes out unless absolutely necessary.

Get two days strung together and our thoughts turn to cleaning up. Dig out the dusters, seek out various cleaning products, and hang out with the clever tile hoover for a few hours…

Then there’s laundry, might as well put a wash load on. From personal experience, it’s easy to tell when the washer is required because I start running out of knickers. Yes, it’s the undergarments that decide when action needs to be taken. Gather ye rosebuds and all that, time to make an appointment with the laundry basket.

Off topic: There’s another phenomenon we’ve observed, for those people who have to go out in their cars, be it work or play. When the sun’s not shining the headlights are ON. In addition to that when the evening sun is going down, the headlights go ON then too. Perhaps the latter is because sunglasses are still required?

Anyway, we’ve come to the conclusion that drivers here must be light sensitive, the opposite way round to what we, as Brits know of. The first time we noticed this was a couple of years ago when we were in busy Benidorm. It was a rare dull day in winter, and the lights coming from cars lit up the skyscrapers…

Which begged the question:

“Do they really need them on in this?!”

On a similar note get the odd shower of rain, and all of a sudden even the fastest of cars is only capable of doing about five miles an hour tops. Well best to be safe than sorry amidst alien weather conditions…

Back on topic: So yesterday I decided to do two floors of this house, the third one up top can dam well wait. “Leave me alone, I’m a scrubber today.” Thing is, Spanish houses never look dusty, even when you know they must be. Unfortunately (or fortunately) knickers can’t dictate, or locate dust. For goodness sake even glass still gleams till you look at the debris stuck to the duster in use…

Spot the difference:





See what I mean?

Oh, and spot the chipmunk in there. No kidding, when “one” is sat upon the toilette, staring at the tiles. “One” can also see a badger, a hedgehog, a smiley face, a donkey, a sausage dog, a snail, and a woman’s head with a choker round her neck. Well it’s either that or a hangman’s noose, but I like to remain positive about things, so give her the benefit of the doubt…

I think marble tiles say a lot about the difference between the imagination skills a woman possesses, versus the imagination skills a man doesn’t. I once pointed out all of the above to Dave, he couldn’t see any of them even when I traced them with my finger. So I asked him to truly focus next time he was sat on the loo. After a “test run” he still didn’t get it… He also reckons anyone reading this will think I’ve been eating magic mushrooms…

Hey, try cleaning the darn things, all 70,000 of ‘em. It’s like reading a book with pictures.

Note: The chipmunk is the most obvious, bottom of each tile, just to the right of centre, with his arms behind his back:


It’s not very clear on here, but he’s also got ears, eyes, eyebrows, and a nose.

In defence of me not being an absolute lunatic, photos just don’t do Charlie any justice.

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