Yesterday evening I gave the kitchen a thorough cleaning. This was a form of groundwork as much as any desire for cleanliness. Amy and I plan on spending tomorrow afternoon baking cakes, buns, and various other party foods in preparation for her birthday tea. This would be quite hard to do when every available work surface is covered in piles of dirty crockery, and so a purge was necessary. The decontamination took me about an hour, but seemed much less due to the delights of The Now Show and Iâ€™m Sorry I Havenâ€™t a Clue.
As a consequence of my efforts Kerry and I had a takeaway for tea tonight; purely in an effort to maintain the kitchens hygienic status. Initially I was quite pleased with our organization skills; we had the money ready and waiting for the delivery man about half an hour before he arrived rather than have to scrabble for the cash at the last minute. My smugness soon wore off fifteen minutes later however when the pizza place rung us to complain that we had paid them in fake money.
Somehow some of the notes from Amyâ€™s fisher price play till had made their way into my wallet. In the dark of the night the delivery man hadnâ€™t noticed as Iâ€™d palmed some of them off to him. The first he must have known about it was when he got back to the shop and noticed that the money was issued by the national bank of toytown rather than the royal mint.
The delivery man came back up to collect the real money on his way to another drop off, and was very pleasant about the whole thing. Still, I canâ€™t help thinking that I would have got away with it too if it werenâ€™t for those pesky kids at the pizza shop.