venta

This morning I have been domesticity incarnate.

I've vacuumed stairs, dusted rooms, changed my bed, done all manner of things.

Having stripped the sheets off my bed to wash them, I thought I'd be dead clever and hang my duvet out on the line to air for a bit.

I did.

Some time later, I noticed it had vanished. Closer examination revealed that it had not, in fact, disappeared, just fallen off the line. Which was odd, since I'd pegged it firmly and it's not exactly windy out there. No, the washing line had broken, dumping my quilt onto the wet, muddy lawn.

I picked it up. It didn't seem too dampened, so I hoped it'd dry off. The mud would brush off, mostly, and "wash duvet" would go on the list of jobs for the near future. Later, when it seemed dry, I brought it in. I thought I caught a faint hint of an odd smell as I lifted it off the line - but I have a fairly poor sense of smell and I couldn't track it down.

Ten minutes later, when I'd pegged out the wet sheets to dry, the duvet had been sitting in an enclosed space, and the source of the problem was obvious. Part of the reason the grass was wet must have been because something (probably a fox, though possibly a tom - we get a lot of both in our garden) had pissed all over it. It stank. "Wash duvet" shot up the list to #1 priority.

The smell seems to be peculiarly insidious, and develops over time. Ten minutes later, the dressing gown I'd been wearing when carrying my quilt about also stank. It's gone in the washer. Yes, I was pottering about in the garden in my dressing-gown. It's Saturday.

A king-size duvet won't fit in the washer, so it's currently sitting soaking in the bath. Quite how I'm going to dry it is something of a mystery - particularly since I don't trust the washing line any more. Suggestions welcome.