Behind the radiator in the bathroom, wrapped neatly in two flannels, is what I imagine at some point was a lollipop.

The wrapper and stick are still fairly recognisable but everything else has soaked into the wrappings in a pinky purple sticky mess.
The whole thing is tied with a small piece of red ribbon which means one of the Proles must have had a hand in there somewhere.

It may have been placed there at any point in the last few years, I am ashamed to say I had not noticed.
Heaven knows why it was put there.

I have decided to boil wash the flannels to see if they can be rescued.

I have a slight problem with throwing away bathroom linen.
For so many years i lived a single life with two towels and one face flannel. Replacing a towel was something that happened rarely and was a big moment, a visit to the sort of shop I never entered for any other reason.

Later when we married we never had a ‘set’ of towels, just a collection of acquired pieces, souvenirs and gifts that all had stories attached and marked our transition from single people to a married couple. Older towels got pushed to the back of the cupboard but never really ‘retired’ from service.

I really have to get over myself.

Yesterday Prole2 and I went to TK Maxx and bought four large white bath sheets. Prole1 was having a sci-fi marathon with the Manager, three and a half hours of doctor Who and Empire Strikes back so he could not come.

I have just cleared away a bin bag full of old towels and replaced them with the fluffy new purchases.

This follows the traumatic experience of clearing out ‘that drawer in the kitchen where you put all that stuff’ yesterday.

At the back of the drawer I found a half eaten packet of glucose tablets I used to eat all the time when Prole1 was a newborn.
Eight years those glucose sweets had been there.
Part of me wondered if I had the moral right to move them after all those years?
Part of me wanted to try one.
Most of me was just deeply disappointed in myself for not having noticed them at some point in the last seven years or so.
They went into the bin along with anything I had not used in more than four years.
Lemon squeezer, practice chopsticks, perished rubber seals for non existent jars, bottle stoppers, old drinking straws and a bit of metal that must have had a use at some point but even I did not know what for.

If this carries on I might even tackle the ‘stuff under the stairs’ soon, but I must walk before I can run.

This is all activity meant to distract me from cleaning the front room of course.
Or doing the washing up.