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Myself and The Boyfriend did The Deep Clean last week. This is a bit of a military operation that tends to take place once a term. We divide the rooms up equally, don’t shower before hand and reward ourselves with something like fish and chips afterwards.

 

The Deep Clean goes beyond the average. It involves serious things like checking that all of your Tupper-ware has lids and outing any items that have lost their other half. It involves going through the bathroom cabinet and disposing of anything that isn’t in at least weekly use:

“What’s this?” I asked brandishing a small bottle of oil.

“I used it for shaving when I was in India,” The Boyfriend said.

“Well you’re not in India now,” I said and chucked it into the bin. The Boyfriend may have rescued it at a later point but he certainly hasn’t dared put it back in the cabinet. I admit that I turn into a bit of a pantomime villain during The Deep Clean but I don’t apologise for this.

 

We have a very ugly bathroom suite in our flat that doesn’t even match. Some of it is grey, some of it is white, all of it looks dirty. There is a piece of chewing gum stuck behind the toilet that definitely predates us. I have long since given up trying to remove it. You can only see it if you’re hugging the toilet and thankfully that is a rare occurrence.

 

The bath has always looked grubby so for this Deep Clean I bought an industrial sized bottle of bleach in an attempt to shift our predecessors grime. It didn’t work. I comforted myself by hoovering the sofa.

 

It was the day after the Deep Clean that I entered my freezer filling phase. The Boyfriend nearly cried when he came home to spag-bol smeared tiles (the kitchen being his Deep Cleaning territory). I’m hoping he forgives me before Christmas.