Here is a picture of our kitchen on Monday, after our awesome cleaner had been through.

Here is a picture of our kitchen this morning. Note that there's only a few plates stacked next to the sink – that's because the rest were still on the floor in the loungeroom.

My housemate, despite being home all day yesterday, has gone to Kenya for a month (he left at about 6am this morning), and after apologising profusely and promising to clean up, has left this godawful mess. You can't actually see the cigarette butts in the coffee cups in this photo, nor the full garbage bag left on the kitchen floor, but sufficed to say it's the kind of mess that I'd be embarrassed to have been the sole cause of, and I wouldn't be at all surprised if the cleaner came in that she'd flatly refuse to touch it.

But the bit that really got my blood boiling was that last night I did him the favour of loading his new mp3 player up with tunes for his trip. This morning when I got back in from the gig at about 2:30am and I saw him in the passageway he said “Yeah, sorry about the mess mate – I'll get my bird to fix it up in the morning”.

I left her a note saying that she shouldn't do it (along with other choice phrases detailing my thoughts on the topic), so I guess I'll see what her response was when I get home.

I'm so fucked off right now.