Ready for the Upheaval

Day two and the roads are relatively clear and the driving conditions are good. My car already knows the way to go. As my mum used to like to say, Boom chick, a boom chick.

I got the carpet, $20 a metre for wool carpet. That’s pretty good, I reckon. Everybody I have told, well, the three people I have told, have inhaled at the price and rabbited something about it being suuuuch a good deal.

“Oh you must be sooooo please.” Ernest look. Big smile. Wide eyes.

“Neyh.” I guess, I think to myself. All I can, really, see now is me having to take a day off work and having to spend a night spent removing most of the furniture, hopefully it will only take one night. Oh, all that furniture. Two side boards, including contents of many books in one and much crockery in the other, the oversized coffee table (it is a dining room table that has had its legs chopped down to dwaf size), the otterman, the smaller cabinet and whatever the hell is in that, the potted plants… and then hoping, fingers crossed, the carpet layers can work around my 3 oversized couches. They can’t be removed, not easily, not really. The furniture problem is what has stopped me replacing the carpet up until this point, you know, defeated before I start. So, there is lots of work to be done before I am sooooo pleased. Wide eyes.

It is maintenance, people, that’s what it is. It is not really something new, as such, it is money being extracted as the cost of living. COGS. 

It is simply repairs.

But, I have to say, I am looking forward to that first pad across the new fibres with my bare toes, that should be lovely. I wonder if it will shed endlessly like new wool carpet can sometimes? I am pleased, of course. Recently, a friend of Mark’s came to the house for the first time and I have to say that I felt a twinge of embarrassment, for the first time.

I have to say, it has been pretty simply thus far. I just have to send a cheque and the deal is done. And, “Post us a cheque and the deal is done.” Old school. Lovely.

Oh, it doesn’t seem real yet, something crossed off my five year list. The five year list is the slowest of all the lists, not so many things get put on it and not so many come off. However, I’m finally giving up my rags in my Pygmalion moment. 2013, the rain in Spain… We'll be all new again, like Joan Rivers, shiny and lovely again, except, of course, carpet doesn't shine, so, we will be all matte and lovely again. If you will excuse the pun.