The best laid plans of mice and men

I have had three hours sleep in the past 48 hours.
Brett had to be taken back to hospital at 12 last night.
He had gone to bed feeling very happy to be home and relatively well.
He later woke up feeling cold (always a bad sign) and when I took his temperature, it was the magic 38.

He was admitted at 3.45 am to a strange ward as our usual cancer ward was full. We spent the rest of the night sleeplessly sandwiched between a extremely vocal toddler and poorly new born babies. Oh yay!

This morning it dawned on me that I was sitting in this strange ward whilst Kev conducted our house inspection.
The bone marrow transplant is looming fast and one of the many checks the transplant team do is to check your house is up to a good standard that is able to happily support Brett's little frail immune system when he finally gets released from hospital.

The house must have no dust, damp or mould. I was confident I had no damp but I couldn't swear on oath about dust and mould.
I had cleaned like a banshee yesterday and only had a few finishing touches to do early this morning.

I had meticulously planned how best to 'stage' the inspection rather like you do when your selling your or having it valued.
All my confidence disappeared when I realised Kev wouldn't do my final touches, he's only a man, they don't see dirt and mess let alone deal with it.....was my house good enough without the early morning blitz I had planned?


I am glad to say the house passed and with that, so did Kev, divorce averted.
or so I thought.

I arrived home this afternoon expecting to find a prime condition show home. I walked around each room saying things to myself like "holy shit, you bastard!"
It was so not to my standard I wondered if he even knew me.

He had failed to tidy Poppy's clutter away, the kitchen worktops hadn't been freshly polished and worst of all....I am so ashamed to say this, the mould ridden shower curtain that I was swapping early this morning to a lovely fresh white one...not only hadn't been done BUT he had left the mouldy one fully extended for the inspectors to see in all its grimy splendour.

I forgive him. He's a man and he did well. We are so tired and stressed at the minute we need to give each other a break whenever possible. Perfection has always been my thing not his and we did pass the inspection so no harm done.

Which led me to this realisation - Crikey if my house passed all I can think is how bad do they have to be to fail?