Wasp what wasp?

Facebook’s timehop has just thrown up this post from two years ago.

I'm on the 'phone to Mrs Quilt and Thunderthighs comes avalaunching downstairs and into the kitchen. There is a kerfuffle, sound of Fester mounting the stairs and Thunderthighs comes into the living room with a "Where's the tea towel?".  I inform him there's a drawful in the kitchen as he well knows.  He exits and shortly thereafter heads upstairs. 

Mrs Quilt wonders what the spillage might be, I comment that whatever it is there is also an airing cupboard full of towels on the first floor.

When I get off the 'phone and it's all gone quiet I wander into the kitchen and enquire of Fester  what was going on that he wanted a teatowel.

"It was to catch a wasp. Well it wasn't a wasp. Thunderthighs said it was a wasp but it was a housefly."

As I was writing that I heard himself stumble and curse the cat for getting under his feet in the bedroom.

Only it wasn't the cat.

It was one of my slippers - which do not have the power of independent movement.

Is it any wonder I've gone grey?