AFTER six long weeks the housemate was finally signed off by her consultant this week with her broken shoulder deemed to be healed.

“Thank goodness for that,” I said

“I know. I was relieved that there were no complications and I didn’t have to have any surgery,” replied the housemate when she arrived home from the hospital.

“No. I mean thank goodness I don’t have to do this any more,” I said, handing over the vacuum cleaner by which I’d just finishing being dragged around the house.

“ I still can’t Hoover or iron or do anything to strenuous,” she said pushing the machine back into my hands.

“I’ve got to build back all the muscle strength I’ve lost,” she added. “I was talking to someone the other day who said it could take up to a year!”

“It won’t take a year,” I replied in horror. “The one exercise the physiotherapist gave you to do where you rest your arm on the table was virtually dusting,” I said. “All you have to do is replace the piece of paper you have to slide around with a duster and a spray of polish and Bob’s your uncle!”

“I thought you said you’d ‘quite enjoyed’ doing the housework,” said the housemate rolling her eyes.

“I did say I’d ‘quite enjoyed it’ but that didn’t mean I want to do all of it for the next year,” I replied in horror.

“I don’t know what you’ve done to my daughter,” said The Mother to he housemate on Sunday evening as I took her washing off the line in the garden.

“I’ve all her 59 years I’ve never known her un-peg any washing without being forced” she added.

“She’s gone beyond the pale at home,” said the housemate rolling her eyes.

“ She’s completely paranoid about it. You’ve only got to put a cup on the worktop and she’s there with the dishcloth and she can almost catch a crumb before it hits the floor!”

“In fairness you do make a lot of crumbs,” I snapped back.

“It’s not easy eating with only one hand,” she replied. “Especially when you deliberately cook me things which are really hard to keep on a fork!”

“I do not do that. And as for the cups it’s really not that difficult to put them straight into the dishwasher rather than leaving them on the worktop right next to the dishwasher.” I pointed out logically enough.

“Ha!” laughed my sister. “I told you she did that. When we were on holiday last year I did nothing but nag her about putting the dishes in the dishwasher and you just laughed about it.”

“Well now I can see how irritating it is,” I replied.

“Oh for goodness sake you’re turning into your sister,” snapped the housemate. “She’s even bought one of those squidgy things to clean the shower instead of using the spray cleaner like I do,” she added looking to The Mother for support.

“It’s no wonder I’m doing my exercises twenty times a day. If nothing else I just want to reclaim the house before she Hoovers and polishes every surface into oblivion!”