If anyone ever writes a documentary about garden ornaments, I hope they include this story, because I—an innocent ceramic frog statue—have survived events no lawn décor should ever have to witness. My life was peaceful once. A bit dusty, yes. Slightly lopsided, maybe. But calm. Stable. Blissfully un-scrubbed.

Then the humans went outside.

It always starts the same: one person strolls into the garden, looks around with the intensity of a home inspector, and suddenly acts like they alone have discovered dirt for the first time in human history. Before I could even blink my painted eyes, someone said the words:

“We should clean everything.”

And just like that, chaos arrived.

The first spell was cast in the form of pressure washing birmingham—and let me tell you, nothing strikes fear into the soul of a garden ornament like the sound of a pressure washer warming up. Even the grass held its breath.

But humans never stop with one task. No, once a single patch of dirt is removed, they become possessed. They start speaking in bigger plans, which is how exterior cleaning birmingham entered the conversation like a dramatic plot twist. That phrase means everything outside is now at risk.

And then it happened—the patio. Oh, the patio. One proud declaration of patio cleaning birmingham and the slabs were blasted so aggressively I saw moss fly past me like it was trying to escape its own existence. The ants moved. The worms relocated. The gnome passed out.

Next came the driveway, which didn’t even get a chance to prepare. Once someone mentioned driveway cleaning bimringham (a misspelling, yes, but still a threat), every tyre mark, oil blotch, and rogue food splatter disappeared. The driveway now looks like it judges people who own muddy cars.

And then… the final stage.

The roof.

The bird lounge. The moss metropolis. The place where tennis balls go to die. A single whisper of roof cleaning birmingham and suddenly ladders appeared like a warning from the universe. Tiles were scrubbed. Pigeons fled. The roof now thinks it’s better than everyone else.

By the end of the day, the garden was sparkling. The humans were proud. The neighbours were nosy. And I?

I was scrubbed too.
I never asked to shine. I was perfectly happy looking like a 1997 garden centre purchase.

But now I gleam. I reflect sunlight. I look like I cost money.

So here’s my warning:

If you ever hear the phrase “let’s just freshen things up,”
run.
Hide behind the compost bin.
Fake a crack.

Because once a human activates Cleaning Mode, no creature, object, or surface is safe—

Not even a ceramic frog with zero responsibilities.