Last week, in a fit of pre-holiday overexcitement, my ten year old threw this squishy eyeball thing into the air. It hit the ceiling and stayed there.
Whenever I go into the sitting room, I feel its gaze upon me. It has a sad, vaguely reproachful look as if to say: Why do you let your children throw things around the house? What sort of person leaves a squishy eyeball sticking on the ceiling for a week? How old are you anyway?
This morning the eyeball informed me that there was a large cobweb in the corner and reminded me that the sofa was piled with laundry that wouldn’t fold itself.
I think I need one stuck to the ceiling in every room in the house. It will be very good for me.