Greasy elbows

So I'm right in the middle of a nuclear clean of the kitchen. And I don't mean the usual quick wipe of visible surfaces either. This is inside the cupboards, inside the hinges, the front and back of the cupboard doors. And so on. I will starve those darn roaches out godammit. By the way - the roach bomb apparently triggers all the females to drop their egg sacks (deduced by observation). The adults apparently go off and die, but a couple of days must allow the mist to clear and hundreds of dewy-eyed hatchlings appear to explore the world anew. Along the way of all this cleaning I discoved the stove top rings were actually meant to be silver, not black. Who woulda thought it. Oven cleaner is a freaky evil yet wonderful contraband substance.

In the words of bloggosphere super-star, dooce,
People asked me how I keep my house so clean. I call it 'having a mental illness'.

Now those of you who know me or shared a flat will know I'm not a paragon of tidy or clean virtues, and I freaking hate vacuuming. But due to the warm weather and age of this building and its abundance of crevices - Aunty B is turning into a compulsive surface-wiper and floor mopper. Bizarro be warned. Oh, no political metaphor hiding in this post either.