Why is there a chip slumped in that chair? And why is it wearing a blue peaked cap? Ah yes!
Earlier I was at the kitchen table, working out our taxes, adding all the numbers, writing them down, checking invoices from paint shops, garages, hardware stores, hotels and oh so many restaurants, same as I’ve done every year. Then I heard the postman and went to collect the post. I wasn’t excited about getting anything interesting. Nobody sends letters anymore. But today there was a bright pink envelope. Quite bulky. I took it to the kitchen, got a knife from the sharp knife rack next to the microwave and slit it open. Inside I found a whole lot of photos. Two naked people in every one. The woman was not familiar at all, but the man I recognised immediately.
Then I saw the chip coming through the door. I was starving, remembering all the plates of food listed on those dockets and that chip looked so tasty that I wanted to pop it into my mouth, but it was too large. So, when it came up behind me, I took the knife and tried to cut it smaller, only to realise that it was a strange chip that contained its own tomato sauce. A bit like those sausages with a cheese filling. When you cut into them the cheese just squirts right out. Delicious. Well, I’m not partial to tomato sauce. From an early age I’ve loved fish and chips with oodles of salt and vinegar and, maybe, a large pickled onion on the side. So, having this particular chip stagger onto the kitchen chair, oozing tomato sauce all over the floor, was quite off-putting.
I got the mop and bucket from the cupboard under the stairs. (So useful, that cupboard. Amazing storage space.) But my efforts were useless. I was slipping and sliding all over the show and when I walked through the house and up the stairs to the hotpress to get some towels, I left red footprints all over the carpet. Mind you, I’ve always hated those carpets. So ugly. If they were ruined I might be able to put in an insurance claim. So I took off my shoes and, barefooted, slid around some more in the tomato sauce; then did a little dance around the lounge.
I was quite exhausted from all this cleaning and dancing, so I made myself a nice cup of coffee – proper coffee, not that instant stuff, and sat down at the kitchen table opposite the chip. It had stopped oozing by this time, I’m happy to say, but I had really lost my appetite and I must have nodded off in the chair because it’s getting dark outside and I can’t think where the day has gone.
I’ll need help moving that chip. It’s so big! I’ll go and ask the man next door. He’s a burly fellow, a carpenter by trade, and he should be home by now.