Bitchfromhell · 16/07/2017 17:05
no matter how well thou thinkest they have been rinsed. The Lesson of Household Pestilence
Verily the wife did disobey her husband who said "I don't care how cute these kittens abandoned outside our dwelling are, we are drowning in cats as it is, desist and resist wife. Thus I do thee order"
Risking a Pillar of Salt issue, the wife looked back. And four tiny faces did minuscule and pathetic "miaows".
The scales fell from her eyes and she did see that her husband had come round nine other times. So she did sneakily poppith out under cover of darkness and hustle them all from the middle of the road into her humble Portico. With food, water, a "natural" flea spray (cos it was the only one that said "suitable for kittens under six weeks") and strict instruction to stay out of the house, she left them for the night with a heavy heart. For they were tiny. And defenceless. And dead cute.
The Mighty Moderators of MNHQ looked down from their tower and saw her sin of Turning Into A Crazy Cat Lady. With a passive aggressive 
and much judgyness of knicker they sent upon the tiny kittens a possession of sharp clawed demon. The hovel's mosquito screens were shredded and entry into the humble abode was gained.
Satan ordered festivities on the sofa. Followed by sloth on the pile of clean laundry.
And this did come to pass.
Lo the enraged DH came down from his night's rest to discover demonic invasion, a small puddle underfoot and the Pestilence of Tiny Jumpy Black Beelzebubs in insect form.
He did unto his errant wife yell quite a lot in flailing arm, Italian fashion.
Chastened his wife did run to the wise women folk of MN. She did weep and rend her (now quite itchy) clothes and begged them for succour and assistance. They loved thine collective internet based neighbour. And lo they advised her.
For some did proclaim she should LTB. For let he among us who can resist tiny whiskers hurl the first YABU.
Other said do not wail and lament. For we have many rituals to cleanse you soul. And your hovel.
For three days and three nights shalt be interred in the deep freezer your cushions of sofa. On the third day they will rise. Purified, if a bit crispy. And once more the arse of your husband shalt be unbitten and non-itchy.
Take this the sacred incense of Indorex. Waft and sprinkle on every cubit of your dwelling, while muttering the Prayer Of Frugal Living "shit this stuff is expensive".
Bring forth the Dragon of Dyson, collapsed as it in the corner. And send the tiny pests to the hell of the dust collector. Hourly. For about a month and a half.
And lo the wife did her MN prescribed rituals. And so the pestilence (with a little help from VetMate and professional kitten flea spray) was eliminated.
All was well and peace was restored to the marital bed.
Until the DH did discoverith his wife writing parody MN bible stuff as an elevated form of procrastination and hysterical replacement activity ... instead of making the kitten advertising website and poster as sworn and promised.
And the Mothers asked the Lord: "How often should we change our sheets, oh Lord?"
And he replied: "Not less than once a week"
And so they asked: "But is it necessary to air the bedroom, Lord?"
And he replied: "Quite necessary, yes."
And they asked: "And is it right to air the fanjo, oh Lord?"
And he told them: "It is holy and clean to air the fanjo at night"
And they all agreed that fanjo-airing was right and holy. But some rebelled and insisted that they must keep their fanjo clothed at night, lest they would not be able to sleep. And that was the great MN schism of 2016.
Remember to respect the Moon cup
And lo a pagan Moon Worshipper did walk amoung the Mumsnet Faithful. Tempting them with claims of earthly green virtue beyond measure, in the silicone, reusable San of Pro.
Twas written in the hidden tablets of TSSDNCOP this day would comeith. All knew the punishment of the Holy Hail of Biscuits must be meted lest they too know the mortification of Unbreakable Vacuum of Cervix
And so it came came to pass.
OstentatiousWanking
Repent sister, repent ! Or thine crumb ridden penance must continue.
In the name of the Tampax, the maxi pad and the panty liner.
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Truly, a plague of Unexpected Visitors is the worst kind of plague JaneJeffer 
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to all!