White. Snowy. Bleached. White.

Okay… I’m not Mrs Marsh.  I am not an expert in washing or anything; but I have to wonder why a woman with a kid has never heard of Napisan…  If she has, she’s obviously too tight or too retarded to try it.

The kid arrives and without fail, with clothes that I have to soak, wash and resoak.

The whites are not white.  They are instead, a murky grey.  And they are not school yard dirty, no…  Not scuffed from sport or play – they are plain and simple ‘not washed regularly’ grey.

As you can see by my pathetic night iPhone shot on a washing machine, the difference between this kid’s “whites” and our standard “whites” are poles apart!  (His are on the left!)

Then I have to go to war with myself...

Send them back to the witch as hideously grey as they came…?   Or whiten them so the kid doesn’t look neglected!

Of course the soaking wins out time after time even though she is probably too damned lazy to drag them out of his bag to notice they are actually white.

Hell.  It doesn’t take a mental giant to work out how to wash a fricking shirt!

Having said that, we have the kid this week as the Harridan continues to clean the house she moved from.  It has now taken approximately three weeks to clean a house that she and one teenager have lived in for less than six months.

Guess that explains why the kid is a lazy non hygienic bugger! 

I shudder to think what this place looks like – and good luck renting it!