22April
I dropped by Aunt Margarets flat today to hand her some paperwork. We only ever meet at Christmas and Easter, but this time there was an urgent reason. She isnt in the best of health, though that has nothing to do with money. Im not a miser; I believe a clean, orderly home is the backbone of a decent life. You can live modestly, but the house still needs to be kept proper.
Her living room is plastered with dustcatchers of every sortlittle figurines, teasets and jars of jam all stacked in piles that could rival a miniwarehouse. In the bathroom theres a litter tray for her cat, Molly, which Aunt Margaret scrubs out once a week. Trash bags are piled right at her feet, and the whole flat smells of stale sewage and rotting leftovers.
When Margaret offered me a bite and began setting the table, I noticed the cutlery was grimy. As she ladled something from the pot, I slipped a pack of antibacterial wipes out of my bag and started wiping the forks. She saw me doing it.
She looked up, eyebrows raised, and asked, Are you not hungry, or do you think its not to your taste?
I stared at the silverware, wondering what to say. Have you ever found yourself in a similar spot, pretending to tidy up while the world around you feels a bit broken?
