OCA Part 4 Project 3 Ex 1

I take the last mouthful of my tea and survey the damage. Empty cups, their contents dried and sticky, remnants of the night before. The overflowing ashtray and discarded socks compete for my attention.

I stumble over trainers and shoes as I make my way to the kitchen and stare at the huge pile of washing up in the sink. The smell of last nights spaghetti bolognese hits my nostrils and turns my stomach, making me feel nauseous. I place the cups retrieved from the dining room next to the sink and as I step back I stand on a squeaky bone. The shrill scream makes me flinch and alerts the dog to my presence. Rushing in, she grabs the bone and takes it back to her basket. At least she's capable of tidying up after herself!

I make my way upstairs to the lounge and turn on the light. The blinds are still drawn so no one can see in. From the outside it must look as if we have been burgled! The sofa is strewn with items of clothing. I can't tell if it is their owners intention for me to wash them or not. The coffee table is strewn with used cotton wool balls and spidery false lashes. Shopping receipts and items of fashion jewellery lay scattered on the floor, along with hairbrushes, hair clips and items cascading from an open makeup bag. I turn off the light and exit quickly.

As i make my way down the hallway to the bathroom, i step over my husbands T shirt and pull the cord to turn on the light. A pile of wet towels lay on the floor by the bath and the bath tap drips onto a shampoo container that's contents is leaking out onto the white porcelain.

I go into my bedroom and although I wasn't last out of bed, the duvet is at an angle, one side draped onto the floor. Pillows lay on the floor on top of yesterday's underwear. The cup of coffee on his bedside table is still warm, but only half drunk. Running late as usual. I slump down in my reading chair and pull my dressing gown tighter around me. There's a definite chill in the air this morning, even though the heatings been on all night, no one bothering to put it on timer.

I look at the 2 baskets of clean washing that need to be divided into piles, for the children to take to their rooms. So that they can then be slung on their floors, no doubt, to be given back to me again in a a few days. Unworn, but indistinguishable from the genuinely dirty laundry. I've given up going into my teenagers rooms. I'm never quite sure what I will find. It's safer to be blissfully ignorant.

So here starts another average day. The house is quiet, they've all gone, and somehow, it seems that I'm the one left to pick up the pieces of their lives, literally. The question is.....where do I start?