Tuesday 6 September 2011 – I venture into the apartment and am welcomed by the aftermath of the guests recent stay. The living room is okay, they’ve reassembled the sofa, and taken up the bed sheets off the floor. The kitchen however is a complete mess, the sink is overflowing with what can only be described as every single piece of crockery in the apartment. Food is mixed in with this mêlée of pots and pans, drink cartons have been drained then tossed onto the work surface.
The bin is overflowing, and there’s a mountain of empty plastic bottles; I suspect they never once took a walk up to the bin outside. I pick up all the towels that have been left on the bathroom floor, strip the beds and pile all the laundry in the main bedroom.
If I’m going to tackle this I need music, I collect all the rubbish and take it up the lane to the communal bin, grab my iPod and as ‘21 Days’ by Dave Gahan plays, I empty the fridge, which is filthy – spilled orange has not been mopped up, and the uncovered food smells bad. After another trip to the bin in the lane I start washing the dishes.
The act of washing up finishes after one and a half hours, and five fresh bowls of water. That’s enough for today, I think I’ve deserved a glass of something fizzy, and I don’t mean water.