When I'm cleaning windows

I have, in the past, written about my peculiar fondness for window cleaning. If you missed that particular gem, you can find it here. At that time, I was living in a shared house and the window cleaning was arranged by my landlady. Now my own landlord, I have the great pleasure of arranging my own window cleaning, and it seemed by far the easiest option to engage the services of the existing window cleaner. Having agreed terms and conditions, the window cleaner now arrives periodically without warning.

And so it was a few days ago. I awoke as usual to my alarm, but as I was regaining consciousness another, unexpected noise greeted me. The window cleaner was at the front of the house hurling soapy suds at the glass and scrubbing ruthlessly. I arose to the sound of the window cleaner washing the bedroom windows. I decided to leave him to it, and strolled down the hall to the bathroom. As I arrived there, the window cleaner also arrived. He had relocated to the back of the house, and was now furiously beating the bathroom window as I carried out my ablutions. After this was complete, I drifted downstairs to get breakfast. Arriving in the kitchen, I was again met with the window cleaner going about his business, and as I moved into the utility he followed me there too. 

Whilst I recognise the coincidental nature of the window cleaner's movements and mine, I couldn't help but wonder whether he was doing it deliberately. I considered whether he times his rounds to coincide with sleepy workers clambering out of bed. I don't suppose it was personal, but in my dopey state I couldn't help but curse his every move. My increasingly shiny windows were of little comfort for my disrupted morning routine. And after he had left and I had managed to prepare myself for the day ahead, the final nail in the coffin was an envelope left in the letter box demanding payment for the morning's interruptions!  

Bedding Down

There are many great mysteries in life, but I am continually at a loss to explain perhaps the greatest of them all: the mystery of the inexplicable fluff.

Whenever I change my bedding, there it is! Great mountains of the stuff coating my duvet cover and pillow cases. You might think that this is entirely explainable, but I have no idea where it originates from. The duvet and pillows are not covered in fluff. The bed appears to be largely without it. Yet by removing one from another, myriad tiny cloud formations coat my bed linen.

It doesn't appear during the washing process - nor does it disappear. It simply clings to my laundry like a limpet; right up until I remove my washing from the machine, that is. At that point it suddenly loses its adhesive qualities, floating down onto the utility floor, the stairs, and across my bedroom. It looks like someone has bombed a cotton wool factory.

I can hoover this up, but worse is to come. Enough of it remains attached to my bedding to aggravate me. There's too much to pick it off piece by piece. The only technique that I have been able to employ that comes remotely close to removing it involves using a comb to scrape it off.

So this is how I came to be stood on my landing combing my duvet cover over the banister today, wondering what quirk of unfortunate circumstance had led me to this point, and pondering the mystery. If anyone else suffers a similar devastating occurrence I would be interested to know about it, especially if anyone has a remedy!