My parents arrive tomorrow to spend the next few days with us. They'll be in Steve's room, since he pays for the privilege of being the only child who has a double bed and an en-suite bathroom by having to surrender them when we have guests. So, we asked him to tidy his room.

To that end, he has pitched every single item of clothing from his chest of drawers onto the floor. He has also stripped the duvet and sheets, and flung them on the floor. I fear that there were already some dirty clothes (and, probably, damp towels) on the floor, so the resulting mess is quite something. And he has disassembled a picture that had been on his wall so that he can use its frame for a different picture, so there are miscellaneous bits of wood and nails lying around. Add a slew of papers and a few water glasses into the mix, and you'll be able to picture his room.

He created this disaster area several hours ago.

Then he went outside and (unasked) raked the leaves. The leaves which didn't actually need raking.

Then he redid the Christmas tree, because the tinsel and lights looked (he said) messy. They looked fine to me but I guess I don't have that perfectionist streak that he does.

He's currently going through his climbing DVD's and sorting them into their correct cases. Definitely a priority; I'm sure my folks are longing to watch slightly grainy footage of sweaty people doing dangerous things and swearing profusely as they do them.

All this activity would be quite touching (after all, he is trying to make sure that his grandparents will have a lovely stay here) if I didn't strongly suspect that, by the time he gets back upstairs, he will be bored and fed up, and will also have a virtuous feeling of having already gone above and beyond the call of duty, and so will simply bundle as much debris as will fit into his drawers, and shove the rest under his bed.

Better tell my folks that, while the linen is clean and the towels are fresh and fluffy, opening drawers could be a bit dodgy.