I know i shouldn't complain but when I get in, he looks all red faced and stressed, like he's going to have a heart attack. I think now may be the time for a talk about a 'cleaner' which, funnily enough, makes him all red faced and stressed, like he's going to have a heart attack.
Oh, and by the way, before you all think he's some kind of saint, he ain't. I cleared his bedside table earlier and had to pick chewing gum off a piece of paper and put socks that he blew his nose on into the wash basket (I know it to be snot and NOT man juice, btw). The wash basket and my DH haven't met, but it doesn't matter as luckily he has the fucking floor to deposit his dirty clothes on.
OMG, I now have given the impression that we live in squalor. We don't. Well, not really.
There is a child having one of those screaming 'I'm gong to be sick' tantrums. Perhaps the mother should get off her mobile phone and give him some attention. Just saying.
Right, I am now leaving the noisiest Costa in the world and going back home. Should I wind DP up straight away and do the dust test ? God, what a fucking bitch I am. 