While hubby sorted out the contents of the garage, tried to unblock a drain and took mouldy blinds to the tip, we scrubbed the mould off all the window frames, scrubbed six years of dust off every skirting board, washed every lampshade, cleaned two bathrooms, one kitchen, one conservatory, one lounge and three bedrooms. We opened every window and every door to air the place and that was the problem:
I had opened the patio doors in the lounge and at the end of the day I couldn't shut them. SIL tried and couldn't do it either. After 15 minutes she said, "Perhaps it will close from the outside?". I nipped outside and sure enough, I was able to close it and then she could lock it.
"Let me in through the conservatory" I said, and walked round to the door.
That's when we discovered that if you tilt the conservatory door, as we had done, you can't get it back in place to open it. No matter how she tried, SIL could not open the door to let me in.
Meanwhile, yours truly was trapped in the garden in a t-shirt as the temperature was plummeting ready to snow.
"I'll let you back in through the lounge", she said.
"Nooooooo!", I cried,
"We're not wrestling with that door again. That one's done. I'll wait."
And there I waited, shivering, until hubby arrived back from the tip and casually opened the conservatory door to let me in. With a roll of his eyes, of course.
Miranda, take note.