Currently, I am feeling very sick sitting here surrounded by a scented oil diffuser on full blast, covered in perfume trying to get over Ted’s latest behaviour.

He found a bad egg somewhere in the garden, rolled in it, ate it, came inside and has spread it all around the house.

I have no words.  I want to die. I want to burn the house down, and/or move to another country.  The smell.  It will live with me possibly forever.  I can taste it, smell it, and remember it.

OH and I gave Ted a shower and we have disinfected the house but every so often I get another whiff and I just want to leave home all over again.  We weren’t cross with him.  OH muttered “for once it wasn’t Pepper” as if that made anything better.  But he’s right.  Pepper is more famed for all her awful things.

For once, going outside to poo-pick for an hour was a blessed and welcome relief.

I dreaded going back into the house.  The smell is near where I sit. I know it.  I keep getting whiffs but am very nervous to find out where it’s coming from.  Someone kill me now and put me out of my misery before I choke to death on air freshener or Ted’s bad egg.