It’s a bit of a family joke that I blame Normous Norman for just about everything. All the biscuits in the house eaten? That’ll have been Norman. The plate I was supposed to return to you? I can’t find it anywhere – Norman must have run off with it. The house is a tip? Norman has not been doing his share of the housework…that sort of thing.
But today I believe I have proved the theory that there is no smoke without fire. Because today, when I was trying to frantically move furniture as my sideboard arrived (early! When have delivery men ever delivered before 8.15am before?!) I found it. I found his stash. Under the armchair there was a small pile of many of the things that have gone walkabout in the last few months….
I’m going to move the sofa later. I bet he’s hidden the other halves to all the odd socks I have under there. As for my bed – I dread to think what he has managed to hoard under there. Actually, maybe I’ll leave that one for now. There’s probably the head quarters for a gang of cats that he’s been training to work from. Ok, maybe not, but nobody believed me that he’d been stashing my stuff either…. :o)