A small white lie never hurt anyone πŸ™ˆ

So I was washing my highlighted hair with L’Oreal Profressional Magnesium Silver shampoo; a really deep midnight blue mixture which stains the minute it touches anything other than blonde hair – on which it cleverly counteracts any yellow tendencies which can creep up on highlighted hair.

The white shower curtain is flecked with mauve suds as I hum ABBA’s Dancing Queen yet have no idea when I shall next be bopping. As I rinse me, the curtain and the tiles quickly from the offending, but highly effective, what in essence is a blue rinse, I notice Man of the Woods’ white shirt in a heap on the floor.

His clothes never make the laundry basket – just a vague notion of the bathroom in passing and occasionally, like now, the bathroom floor (which is better than the landing so we won’t moan).

Stepping out over the shirt, and delighting at my reflection in the mirror at the face-lift effect that twisting a large towel on top of my head creates, my periphery vision catches purple splodges on said shirt. Must rinse that.

After a gruelling yoga for beginners class this morning (because I’ve forgotten everything and need to start again with my down-dogs) we are going out to lunch. In a pub. Excellent. The joys of post-harvest; I don’t have to wait for my husband to leave the office at 6pm – he’s right here, under my feet!

From somewhere a voice calls;

MoW: “Have you seen my white shirt?”


Me: “No? Must be in the wash! Why not wear the blue one?”

MoW: “Can do, but I really like the white one.” I hear him shuffle off down the landing.

Twenty minutes later…. entering the kitchen.

MoW: “What are you doing?”

Me: “Just thought I’d wash the bedding – great weather for drying and the sun is great for whites!” armfuls of duvet cover and sheet are forced into the washing machine, expertly hiding a garment.

MoW: “You never do housework – and you decide to do some just as we go out?”

Me: “Yes well ..” I stand up and grin “I’ve heard there’s an award going round. For best wife!”