Sqjrbndktocnlehst!!!
What a bizarre day!
I have fallen asleep and woken in the land of the mad with March Hares bounding all over normality and Martians peeking into the windows and sniggering at me through snaggly teeth.
The morning started with feeding oldcat a poisonous tablet, so heinous that I had to use specially-purchased non-latex gloves from Boots to do so.
Soon afterwards, the date-of-moving panic began, which throbbed throughout the day like a sore tooth and is still here now.
The removal company weren't sure whether they could do the new date and I had to find another removal company, who are coming round tomorrow. Meanwhile, the original removal company discovered that they could do the new date after all. But it's not a definite new date yet anyway...
Ex-partner went sailing past the house in a huge van at 10.30 and didn't reappear till an hour later. How mysterious! Was it him? Yes, it was!
Diana came round with a pair of opal earrings and a broccoli quiche for me, Offsprog Two screamed as the fridge disappeared along with frozen contents for Ex-partner's sister whose son was there to help, and we get on so he had coffee and Ex-partner didn't.
The British Heart Foundation phoned: they were to collect a bed from here on Friday to sell in one of their shops.
Diana went upstairs to look at the bed and spent the rest of the afternoon trying to hire a van so that she could have the bed upstairs, and give the British Heart Foundation her old bed instead. She then had to divert them to her house to pick up her bed on a different day, and the woman on the phone couldn't understand her postcode, what was happening, the day of the week to pick up the bed or Diana's name.
Meanwhile I was frantically trying to check my computer for emails to see when we might be moving.
The house insurance people sent the insurance forms to the house I will be moving to instead of to here: except the first time, they got the house number wrong. The second time, they got the house number right, but they should have sent the forms here, shouldn't they?
So I was trying to remedy this too today, when their computer went down and lost all my details.
A large and non-functioning TV sits looking embarrassed in the front room. It has been half dismantled, its outboard video and DVD players packed uncomfortably in a box that is too small for them. A skip will be arriving tomorrow, and a man to dismantle all the light fittings. Lots of the lightbulbs have given up in disgust and the remaining ones are popping at a rate of knots.
There are frantic pencil scribbles on a sheet of paper next to me, totally indecipherable, just like today.
I have fallen asleep and woken in the land of the mad with March Hares bounding all over normality and Martians peeking into the windows and sniggering at me through snaggly teeth.
The morning started with feeding oldcat a poisonous tablet, so heinous that I had to use specially-purchased non-latex gloves from Boots to do so.
Soon afterwards, the date-of-moving panic began, which throbbed throughout the day like a sore tooth and is still here now.
The removal company weren't sure whether they could do the new date and I had to find another removal company, who are coming round tomorrow. Meanwhile, the original removal company discovered that they could do the new date after all. But it's not a definite new date yet anyway...
Ex-partner went sailing past the house in a huge van at 10.30 and didn't reappear till an hour later. How mysterious! Was it him? Yes, it was!
Diana came round with a pair of opal earrings and a broccoli quiche for me, Offsprog Two screamed as the fridge disappeared along with frozen contents for Ex-partner's sister whose son was there to help, and we get on so he had coffee and Ex-partner didn't.
The British Heart Foundation phoned: they were to collect a bed from here on Friday to sell in one of their shops.
Diana went upstairs to look at the bed and spent the rest of the afternoon trying to hire a van so that she could have the bed upstairs, and give the British Heart Foundation her old bed instead. She then had to divert them to her house to pick up her bed on a different day, and the woman on the phone couldn't understand her postcode, what was happening, the day of the week to pick up the bed or Diana's name.
Meanwhile I was frantically trying to check my computer for emails to see when we might be moving.
The house insurance people sent the insurance forms to the house I will be moving to instead of to here: except the first time, they got the house number wrong. The second time, they got the house number right, but they should have sent the forms here, shouldn't they?
So I was trying to remedy this too today, when their computer went down and lost all my details.
A large and non-functioning TV sits looking embarrassed in the front room. It has been half dismantled, its outboard video and DVD players packed uncomfortably in a box that is too small for them. A skip will be arriving tomorrow, and a man to dismantle all the light fittings. Lots of the lightbulbs have given up in disgust and the remaining ones are popping at a rate of knots.
There are frantic pencil scribbles on a sheet of paper next to me, totally indecipherable, just like today.
posted by Helen McCookerybook at Wednesday, October 28, 2009
1 Comments:
"A large and non-functioning TV sits looking embarrassed"
Talking of which, some of yous may be interested to know I am DJing at a friend's night on Friday.
More importantly, during this event I will play at least 1 track by The Chefs, and also 'Bloody' by The Golinski Brothers. And something by The Pirahnas...
Ooh, it'll be good!
More details over at my place...
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