Today was God's day, the day of rest. All was accomplished with was listed. I showered, I read the Sunday papers like a trooper, my room is tidier than ever, the recycling was put out an entire 24 hours in advance and the kitchen has never looked so shiney.

This wasn't the exact list I had made up for myself to. I hadn't an intention of staying in bed until an unholy hour (given the day that was in it). Nor was the a motive for staying in bed attire until 4pm when it was decided that the most productive thing one could do today would be to go to the cinema. Colin Farrell made me laugh for 2 hours- but at what cost?

Yesterday was to be my slow burning day, I was doing really well. I had cleaned the house, my room and my keen sense of domesticity was tuned highly. So much so that the inclination to clean my footwear came into play during the early afternoon. My vans had been soiled. They had been destroyed when operation "clean the toxic waste that has accumulated over the last six months- my god we're animals" was underway.

So I decide that a simple mathematical equation of : 1 pair of vans+ one ab led washing machine= one very clean pair of vans.

It was a naive venture at the core of it. For there I sat for 40 minutes (including the horrific spin cycle) and listened to the thumping and disgruntled noises come from the kitchenette appliance. At times it was similar to witnessing a battle. The shoes won one round only to succumb to the brutal force of the angry washer in round two. The banging and splashes of the water than could be seen through the port hole did nothing to quench the nerves that were... well, banging and splashing inside my mind.

I waited and finally I would be rewarded. The drone of the end came near. I got to my knees and gaped into the washing machine, waiting for that green light to salvation to flicker allowing me to open the door. The looked okay. In fact they looked more than okay. They looked clean. I open the door, and tentatively reach in and clutch the right shoe... although wet through and through it looked twice the runner it was before this ordeal. Whatever doesn't kill us certainly makes us stronger.

Stayed tuned next week as I haven't been liking the look of backpack with a number of days....