Wednesday, September 09, 2009

The Bathroom Has Begun!!!

Oh yes indeed it has, and were I still able to do a little jig I would be doing one right now. Instead I'm just going to bore you to death with updates instead.

But first I will tell you of the pure naughtiness that is the hound Harry. We have our milk delivered to the back door and today's delivery was especially welcome because we'd run out of milk, and life cannot begin until I have had my morning cup of Earl Grey. Feeling generous, I chucked the boys outside as soon as I got up to create some more burn patches on our lawn while I emptied the dishwasher and put the kettle on.

When I looked outside I could see Red sitting by the back door looking really nervous, which is not unusual for him, but it was very early in the day for him to have done something he felt guilty for (I swear he was a Catholic in a former life!!).

I felt a bit sorry for depriving him of his bed so I opened the door to let him back in, and to see where Harry was - you'll probably guess where this is going – to see Harry, having carefully removed the lid from the milkbottle and his tongue shoved inside it, slurping for all he was worth.

6am is very early in the day to be turning the air as blue as I did, and I developed a mild eye twitch when Keith started chortling from the bedroom upstairs. Depriving me of my morning cuppa is a hangable offence, finding it funny that I've been deprived of my morning cuppa is on a par with murder. I never claimed to be reasonable or rational about these things.

In a bid to restore marital harmony, Keith took himself off to the shop (still chuckling) to get more milk and the half empty bottle was relegated to the side in the kitchen to be given to the dogs as a treat in the unlikely event that one of them actually did anything to deserve it.

This tale isn't just thrown in to demonstrate how grumpy I am, or how evil that cute little basset can be, it will become important later on.

For now though, back to the bathroom …

Having been let down for months, we finally got another fitter at short notice (Friday to be exact) who was due to start this morning. Bizarrely, he actually started this morning which is a departure from the no-show, no-call approach of the last bloke.

He's a fantastic bloke to boot, working non stop and coming up with all manner of solutions as to how to crowbar all our luxury fittings into a room the size of a postage stamp.

He requires one thing, and one thing only to keep him going, and that is regular cups of teeth curling builders tea. So nice a bloke is he that he won't even hear of me making him those cuppas, insisting that I stay on the sofa instead.

Cometh midday, cometh the lunch hour and I got up and wandered into the kitchen to throw some simple pasta creation together and waiting for the kettle to boil I glanced over at the side to see …….. a much emptier bottle of milk than the one I left this morning.

Dear Lord above, what kind of evil woman am I?!? I have fed our lovely builder dog milk!!! Even worse than that, I now have to sit by and watch as he drinks even MORE dog milk because what else can I do? How can I explain to him that he's been using the wrong milk without having to explain why?!?

I'm glad that miserable mutt is off with Keith today because I think I might well have done him a mischief for this little stunt.

And what has our builder done in return for this cruel and unusual treatment?

Well so far he has demolished the airing cupboard and channelled the wall for the shower controls with such a degree of accuracy, he has removed the brick and left the plaster in the lounge unblemished. THAT is how tight the measurements are for this blinking shower, this behemoth that the skinniest bloke in the world insists is vital to his future cleanliness.

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