No matter what they tell you, there will always be a point where something will go wrong, somewhere.
For example, today I started cleaning the flat. Now, normally, we have a cleaning lady that comes in every fortnight, but she hasn't come in since the end of last month, which means the flat's been in a dreadful state of ickyness and dust. And while I clean my room every other day, sweeping and banging pillows around, and doing the laundry, there's something to be said about our floors and definitely our bathroom. Two people sharing a bathroom is enough - the fact that there's three of us now is definitely more of a bother. And while I don't mind picking up after other people, there's only so many times you can leave cups and spoons in the sink before I start getting more than a little bit pissy.
Anyway, so I planned to do the laundry today and get at least the common areas clean. I never thought almost a month of not even sweeping up could cause so much damage. The floors were definitely filthy and I could see the carcasses of small insects littering the counter and the corners. So armed with my trusty broom and dustpan, the ancient vacuum cleaner (which I doubt has ever been emptied), and a pail of water, liquid floor cleanser, and a mop, I prepared to tackle the kitchen floor/laundry area.
So after sweeping and vacuuming and scrubbing for an hour, and managing to get it to a point where it started to actually look white, I moved on to the living room and dining areas. All the while, the washing machine was happily tumbling and whirling my sheets and blankets. So I sweep the living room area, plump the (sorry excuse for) throw pillows and vacuum the floor. And in the middle of it all, I hear a small pop! and when I go and investigate, the clean clean kitchen floor - the one I just washed and scrubbed and swept - is swamped with soapy water. Apparently, the washing machine's tube at the back, where the dirty water is drained away, had come undone and now laundry water was sloshing and draining out on the floor.
So of course I panic and screw the hose back into the tube, and then bring out all my cleaning stuff again and mop and mop and trying not to slip on the tiles because it's soapy water. All the time I was wondering, "If I slip and hit my head on the counter and black out, how long will it take for someone to discover my dead body and actually call for help?" Of course, the prospect of dying alone and on a soapy kitchen floor didn't appeal to me, so I just cleaned up the best I could, and continued on my way.
Of course, just as I finished dumping my last load in the laundry and calling up delivery for lunch, the cleaning lady comes in. O_o
I remember friends telling me more than once that you know you're doing something right if the guy makes you happy. I think I'm finally understanding what that means. ^_^