Our cosy living arrangements, which we had begun to take for granted, were recently threatened by a zealous, new house inspector from the estate agent. Our response was prompt and decisive: we paid people to clean up our house.
Despite the fact that our house was almost spotless, I must confess to having some anxiety about the result. However, the inspection was duly passed, and Cameron described the inspector's reaction as being 'non-plussed', a situation that provides no small amount of satisfaction.
In any case, our tenure is secure for another six months, which will no doubt be sufficient time for the house to revert to its customary state of disorder (I feel that disorder is the destiny of the universe, and am hesitant to do anything to obstruct the juggernaut of entropy).