Washing your pillows is on those chores that most of us only get around to completing once in a blue moon, like hoovering your mattress, giving your skirting boards a proper scrub or handwashing that blouse that’s been at the bottom of the laundry bin since 2012.
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I woke on Tuesday at 4am and could hardly breathe. I was sweating (and, post-menopausal that I am, I never sweat) and racked with worry. I grabbed my hair, put my head in my hands, and said out loud, ‘What am I doing? What was I thinking?’