For a brief period I was convinced the house was on the precipice of an invertebrate infestation. These small cocoons were appearing everywhere, seeming to gestate (in my imagination) some sort of dreadful moth type animal. However on closer inspection I realised its actually the half chewed date stones, gifted by you-
my creatively slobbish co-habiter.
Prizes for originality, I would never have guessed.
I have seen them everywhere, by the toilet, on the infamous landing windowsill, the kitchen counter, in the bathroom sink. I assume you're trying to channel the spirit of an Egyptian taxi driver at snack time (which I totally respect).
Embracing another culture's stone spitting habits is commendable, perhaps I could play the role of the agonised and exasperated wife who follows you around picking up your dried fruit detritus from the carpet, yay for us!
There is also this lone survivor stuck to a bit of plastic on the sofa, I assume he took refuge in the living room because you only use this space as a rubbish bin.
Don't give up, little man!
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