The cat spat on the mat

The people buying my house came back for another look today. I had scaled down the house status from 'showhome' (please, please buy our house) to somewhere between 'lived-in' (don't want to look too needy, but you still haven't paid your deposit) and 'total pig-sty' (can't back out now, suckers!).

They looked around again, then we had coffee and chatted about the house in general. Now, there isn't really much wrong with our house - it's quite new, but for some reason, I remembered that the extractor fan in the bathroom didn't work. It's not a big deal, but I started to feel uncomfortable about it, and when I feel uncomfortable, I start to ramble. This is not a good thing. My mouth goes into mach one, and in order to avoid any uncomfortable silences, I will say ANYTHING. The trouble is that it's not usually the silences that are uncomfortable, just the things I say.

In the wake of many an inappropriate comment, I've often wondered why I do this. I think I have an over-developed sense of guilt. I'm not a Catholic, but I should have been. I'd make a really good one, though I would never be out of confession.


Anyway, today, there was no stopping me.
The silences got longer, as we ran out of polite conversation,and they tried to think of more things to ask us about the house, and I steamed on, rabbiting about any old rubbish. (don't mention extractor fan, DON'T mention extractor fan).

Having already blurted out that we still didn't have anywhere to move to, and that the deeds of our house were missing, I thought I needed to find some safer subject matter, so waffled on about the cat. He's got a bit of a weight problem, and I thought it would be vaguely amusing to tell them how he can no longer fit through the cat door. The cat, who doesn't like people mentioning his weight, shot me a look which would have gained him instant entry through the gates of Hell, and moulted huge clumps of hair onto the carpet. (How can they just DO that at will?)

Obviously, this made me slightly more uncomfortable. My brain searched desperately for a relevant subject. So I thought I'd tell them, quite topically, about all the big, slimy hairballs he's been hoiking up onto the carpet recently. The comment hung in the air like a silent fart in a yoga class. There was tumbleweed, and everything. I was aware of some slight tension in the air, but couldn't think why. I did a mental check - I hadn't mentioned, sex, religion, politics, or even the war. Then realisation dawned. It's not just any carpet with big slimy hairballs on it. It's not even my carpet with big slimy hairballs on it. It's a soon-to-be-theirs carpet, with big slimy hairballs on it, which, judging by their faces, were getting bigger and slimier by the second.

After that, it was all a bit blurry. I think I recovered the situation, but I think I may have inadvertently dropped out that the extractor fan in the bathroom didn't work......