Friday, 22 November 2013

Getting there slowly!

I'm not as stressy as I was in my last post.  My brother is actually home from hospital.  Yes, home.   I'm torn between feeling glad he's not in our local hospital and feeling that he should still be in hospital due to the nature of his injuries?   Still - he's home, he's alive, and he's getting better, which is the main thing.

Christmas is going ok.  Three of the four children have their main presents sorted.   Last weekend I finally found the time to defrost my 'frost-free' (my arse!) freezer, and so this week I managed to go out and do a 'big shop'  for the first time in about six weeks.   As  you can imagine, buying things by the day for a family of six can prove quite expensive.  Things are settling down, and so we decided that we'd have a crack at the hall, stairs and landing before Christmas comes.  Remember that?  The green gloss?  The dust?  The 'it needs to all be knocked off?'  Yah.  That.  All lying in limbo since my brother's accident.

So.  First thing on the list; carpet protection film.   We've had new skirting boards and door frames put on, so we've decided to stain those.  This meant other door frames and the bannisters needed stripping.  Cue Mr G's sander and then; 'You know what would make this a lot easier?  An angle grinder?'   So, I bought Mr G an angle grinder.  Did it make the job easier?  Oh yes.  However.  We have smoke alarms in our house.  And BY GOD I don't know what this Council have done to them, but I think they're wired up to the mains, and are battery operated?  But - even if you isolate them in the mains, you can't actually get in to the casing of the feckers to take the batteries out?  Albeit temporarily?   Remember smoke alarms of old.  You'd slightly char your toast and the thing would start this cute bleeping?  You'd get a tea towel, or a copy of The Mirror, and waft at it, and it would stop?  Oh.  Nostalgia.com.  These things?  I spray deodorant?  They go off.  And they don't cute bleep any more.  I actually couldn't hear by the end of the day.   We steamed the wallpaper off?  They went off.  We stripped wood with the angle grinder?  They went off.  And went off... and went off... and... went off.  I felt like I had been cast back to the early 90's and had spent an evening in the Octagon with a rave group.  The kids were panicking about them going off in the middle of the night and scaring them.  Mr G solved this issue (or so HE thought) by putting food waste bags over them (no, I'm not kidding).  This did work, but then they went off three times between 8 am and 8.30 am.  As if to spite us. 

Mr G wants a feature wall at the bottom of the stairs, you won't believe what he wants.  Or maybe you will.  Mr G has a tendency to be quite ironic.  He's like rain on your wedding day.  Which, incidentally, but no surprise, we did actually have.  Bought the emulsion for the walls that have been plastered and lining paper for those that haven't.  Today, we gave the plaster a coat of half and half emulsion and water, Mr G painted the ceilings, and I gave the woodwork the first coat of woodstain.   Neither icing sugar, nor plaster can hold a torch to the dust that Mr G has managed to coat my house in with his ******* angle grinder.  There was not a room that didn't have a light dusting of sawdust over... everything.  Food.  Plates.  My ironing pile.  My clothes drying on the airer...

Anyhoo.

Number of times the smoke alarm has gone off over the last three days - 77 (including one continous alarm that Mr G couldn't be arsed switching off and I had to put my ear muffs on for)
Number of times I've wanted to shove Mr G's angle grinder up his arse - 76
Best question I've been asked today - 'Is 'anus' a bad word?'
Best compliment I've received today - 'Cracking tits, Gromit.'  (Mr G getting an eyeful, coming down the ladder)

How was your Friday? :-)

M x

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