Uh oh. I’m in trouble.
Miss-Matic has guests. And when Miss-Matic has guests, the laws of chaos seem to inexplicably change.
Normally, when I walk into a someone’s home and see an unwashed mug, the roof of that home does not sag and collapse and kill all the occupants.
Usually, when I’m sitting on a friend’s sofa and spot a crumb on the floor, a madman does not leap through the window in a cloud of glistening glass shards, and slaughter everyone in the room in particularly bloody and brutal ways.
And never, in my personal experience, upon spotting a coffee ring on a horizontal surface – which is usually a good thing, a sign that the surface is sufficiently robust should I wish to rest a warm beverage on it – have I caused the eruption of a solar flare of such magnitude that it boils the oceans and sterilises the planet down to bedrock.
You would not believe Miss-Matic hasn’t experienced these things if you had ever witnessed her expecting guests.