Saturday, October 20, 2012
Manky: Foul, putrid, crawling, nasty, odiferous.
This is how my spare bedroom smells today on night two of a kid weekend. Yesterday I wondered, just briefly, if I had jumped to conclusions when I saw the shampoo bottle was unopened and as dry as a bone. Maybe my “father was a detective” skills had diminished over the years.
But no; the reality of it is that I am James fricking Bond.
No way did that kid put anything on his revolting, manky head; and the stench permeates the air of any room he is in! I had to open the front door to air out the lounge which is relatively open. The closed bedroom basically made my skin burn and my eyes bleed.
It is gag worthy. Putrid is being kind. A dead thing would smell better than that. The kid needs a bath, lye soap, a scrubbing brush!
And I’m angry. Really angry.
The Squeeze is back to “I can’t smell anything…” This could be because the tosser has been off all day with the kid so is just immune to it; and when I got home later the pair of them are sitting in the lounge, laptops on knees, television blaring. No one thought about putting dishes away or bringing in the washing. Lazy gits.
So. He can’t smell anything. That is probably good because if the smell has seeped into his pores after sitting in a closed room with that smell all night, he’ll be sleeping in there with him!
These people are slothful and selfish. For the life of me, I can’t work out how to address it; given that his mother is a complete moron and his father is a delusional moodle.
All I know is that I am seriously not putting up with it.
Posted by Mistress at 8:44 PM