Tasha Dhanraj avoids putting on airs

My sister’s flashy New York boyfriend is coming to stay for a week. He’s a photographer who lives in a stylish Brooklyn apartment. We live in a cul-de-sac in Burgess Hill. He’s been here before, but never for more than a couple of nights. Staying a week means that Tasie has seven days during which to panic every time that someone doesn’t fold the towels in the downstairs toilet properly, just in case he judges us. Even this article has been vetted to meet the Tasie standard of approval.

He’s arriving in less than 24 hours and already she’s turned into a crazy clean person. Given this is the same girl who sometimes loses our cats among the piles of clothes in her room, it demonstrates just how angsty she is. I’ve just spent the last hour scrubbing the bathroom with chemicals that are so toxic, I’m now worried my feet are dissolving.

It made me worry that maybe I’m too relaxed with Andy. We were lying on the sofa yesterday when Tasie started to explain exactly how I was to dress when Joey came over. I stared down at my piggy slippers and tea-stained dressing gown. Too relaxed?
No, there’s no such thing. If there are clumps of my hair resting on top of a comb in the bathroom when Andy arrives, he should just be grateful that I bothered to brush it at all.

“I stared down at my piggy slippers”

I can’t really remember at what point Andy and I reached that level of comfort between each other. It certainly took a few months. With Tasie celebrating her six month anniversary with Mr Brooklyn photographer, I’m surprised she’s managed to keep up this cleanliness for so long. I suppose with a long-distance relationship it is easier to give the illusion that you live in a perfect, crystal land of sparkling shine and fresh sheets. Her webcam boyfriend only sees the tidy desk and the chair, with the messy floor and empty bottles of expired perfume hidden from view.

I think it’s nice she’s still making the effort, even if it does stress me out and cause me headaches from the poisonous sprays I’ve been smothering the shower with. For seven days while her boyfriend is here, I will bury the truth that can only be hidden for a few months longer. I will let him believe she is tidy, while I will always know she is the girl who puts shower gel down the toilet when she is too lazy to change the freshener.