A British comedy called Little Britian often has a sketch based on ‘Fatfighters’, a WeightWatchers joke, where the instructor, Marjorie Dawes, advises her Fatfighters to eat dust in order to lose weight:
If you can’t see it, the link is also here.
I am not showing you this clip in order to incite laughter, or to talk yet again about weight loss or health issues. No. This is all about what I’ve actually eaten over the past three days (i.e. dussssst).
As I’ve written before, we are currently undergoing renovations of our lovely, 1930’s semi-detached house. Seriously though, I might actually stick a screwdriver in someone’s neck if they so much as show me another part of the house that needs to be replaced, rebuilt, or recapitalised.
My boyfriend confinced me that we should have the house re-wired on the weekend. He had found a friend of a friend of his brother to do it all, as an expert electrician, within the weekend. Obviously, I thought this was great, but being my father’s child, I thought completeing a full house re-wiring in two days was optimistic. Especially with a mother-in-law around who flirted with the electrician constantly. She treated him like a king! Wasting, approximately, 6 hours of total time on the weekend, wining and dining him, and telling him about how horrible her ex-husband is. Nevertheless, he did the job on the cheap, as a favour to us, so I guess this isn’t so bad. The work however, consisted of him lifting floorboards where spiders live. And us moving furnature here there and everywhere, to such an extent that last night, we had rebel escape routes for things with six legs and eight eyes.
On top of this, my boyfriend decided it was high-time to take out our ‘custome-made’ wardrobe which was built by the previous owners’ son. It was quite the wardrobe, and I guess in 1970 it was the equivilant of Ikea’s Pax system, but seriously, this thing was fucking horrible: the sliding doors kept jamming, we couldn’t get to any clothes in the middle drawer system, there was 1930s wallpaper on the a wall, and 1930s linoleum on the floor – the underlay to which our Barney-purple carpet was set over, until Saturday morning. When he was done taking out the wardrobe however, there was so much space added to the bedroom. Like, a whole 1.5 feet. The only dimmer on this was the giant spider hole that was unveiled. Yes, now I know where all the spiders come from: I had a bit of a worry last night, that I would wake up this morning wrapped in a giant spider cocoon, shih-tzus and all.
At the moment therefore, our life at home is pretty much hell, what with the rubble, dust, naked floorboards, all of the rubbish now in the garden, and the understanding that this will take at least 2 and a half weeks to complete without floors being installed. Today, the boyfriend is destroying our 1930s coal-store that still has coal in it. I can’t imagine what we’ll do with all those bricks, but one thing is for sure, we’ll be bricking up the spider-hole, and the ancient fire places in both the master bedroom and the spare. I am still enquiring as to whether or not we can directly sell our coal to EDF or British Gas.
Tonight will be an evening of wallpaper stripping. My favorite after work activity.
