The complaining painter is here attacking the garage door with gusto. At one stage he disappeared inside the garage, shut the door and a white duster was subsequently seen flapping over the top, I wasn't sure if he was cleaning the inner surround or signalling for help as he was locked in.
In view of the unearthly hour I had to get up and out, I cut down a load of plants in the front garden so now you can actually see the path to the front door.
In view of the unearthly hour I had to get up and out, I cut down a load of plants in the front garden so now you can actually see the path to the front door.
"I thought your house had disappeared or I'd got the wrong road!"
I was finished by 8.30am and retired to make the first of an unending series of cups of tea. I have now cleaned the living room, bathroom and the hall, stairs and landing. The place now gleams. Unable to sew because of the worsening condition of my hands I have tried to be productive in other ways.
I'll have plenty more cleaning to do later in the week as WH has decided we will get the bathroom re-papered as he has hated it ever since he mucked it up doing the floor in April. I have yet to tell the painter. I just know he will be overjoyed.
"Everytime I come out here the weather changes for the worst, I'll have to find some inside jobs now," This was in response to 20 minutes of drizzle overnight.
"We've had gales forecast for Wednesday, I can't do fascia boards in that now can I, nor take Mother shopping."
Nothing changes in the decorating world.
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