Tuesday, August 16, 2011

Home sweet home

The sight of 7 tradies at the front door at 0800 today did not fill me with confidence. You want to drill a hole in my bathroom ceiling? Sure, come on in, coffee's on!
Why the hole?
I asked a few questions to sound interested/concerned, but I have to admit - I've largely given up and now accept my fate. The biannual drill/plaster festival at randomly selected houses across the compound usually comes without warning and sometimes, also purpose.
After establishing what I thought to be the focal point (the bathroom ceiling that required the hole), I came downstairs to find two guys pulling the stereo apart and trying to get at the wall.
Morning!
Ummmm .... the bathroom's upstairs dudes.
Mutter mutter mutter (them to/about me).
So yes, I have spent the morning with one eyebrow raised at a cluster of strange men doing inexplicable things in my home, and occasionally reaching into a full washing machine to pull the WHITES out of the DARKS/COLOURS. I am not sure how much clearer I can make the principle of colour segregation with washing, without moving into deeply racially offensive territory.
Apparently the painter will be here in a few days to 'patch up', Great! Maybe he could take a look at the hole with the live wires poking out in the spare room that remains from the previous festival.
The domestic burden is heavy today, my friends (but at least we have a brand new hole in the bathroom ceiling).

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