I recently decided to give my oven a long overdue clean. I put on the recommended breathing mask, thick goggles and protective gloves. I couldn’t help feeling that this was my Halloween costume sorted for this year. The only thing that could have offered me more protection was a space-suit.
The instructions on the cleaning fluid bottle were equally very scary…
Do not inhale as the fumes could cause respiratory failure.
Do not come into contact with eyes as could cause irreparable damage.
Do not spill onto skin as it will cause severe burns.
Do not spray by a naked flame for risk of explosion – presumably I’d be blown “clean” away?
Is it any wonder I don’t clean my oven very often? I’m not sure my life insurance covers any of this.
I can imagine a doctor asking my dad how I died and him say: ‘Well, he was cleaning his oven…’
I wouldn’t want that embarrassing death on my headstone.
The other messy household chore I always put off is emptying the Hoover. There are things you discover when you finally empty the cylinder.
That you’ll only witness a similar dust cloud in a nuclear explosion.
That compacted dust weighs loads. Who knew? It’s just dust.
Once emptied, you no longer feel like you are pushing twins in a children’s buggy around the room and that your Hoover thanks you by purring and not sounding like a V1 engine under the strain.
That dirt and dust miraculously start to disappear from your carpets without rigorous repetitive movements and crumbs will not fall back out of your Hoover at the slightest bump.
That you remember why you loved your Hoover when you first bought it and feel instantly relieved you won’t have to purchase a new, less powerful one.
And that you will not leave it so long next time and promise to empty it again in 8 years’ time – around the same time as you next clean the oven.