Cleanin' out my closet...

So another week passes by in a whirl of paint colours, carpet samples and bathroom tiles.  

At the moment, the tiler is here, and walking in through the front door at lunchtime, I wondered whether there had been a rather obscure sandstorm in my hall.  Coughing my way to the kitchen, I heard him shout, 'Cup of tea would be nice'.  Me and him could fall out if he's not careful.  The trouble is that the husband recommends his tradesmen to all and sundry, and last week they were with a neighbour who insisted on getting up an hour earlier so that she could make them all cottage pie for lunch.  It's much slimmer pickings here, I can tell you.  

In readiness for the Big Decorate, the husband and I have spent the entire weekend de-junking the house.  As I said to him on Thursday, 'If you think I'm moving all of your crap into one bedroom, only to move it back in two weeks later, you have another thing coming my friend'.  Luckily, he didn't take me up on my Binland offer of a free skip.  Looking at the amount of stuff we managed to get into his trailer yesterday, I reckon my colleagues would have turned it away at the gate muttering something about 'flat loads only', and I can imagine that here will be some mention of it on the local traffic report tomorrow as it winds its precarious way to the tip.

So my house is looking very bare.  Admittedly, a lot of the stuff was old furniture which had seen better days.  Son number two's bed should have a special mention at this point for being held together with duct tape and two large knitting needles for the past two years, having previously been propped up by the complete collection of Beatrix Potter books.  This after some exuberant bouncing on the bed at the end of primary school. (He's twenty two now...).

A donated chest of drawers went the same way. For the past ten years I have tried to keep the second drawer down closed.  I push the door shut, step away, turn around, walk away, look back and....it's open again. In its early days, I actually changed all the drawers around thinking that maybe the drawer would be happier in a different slot, but it made no difference whatsoever, and I now realise why it was given away to me in the first case (with no prior warning as to the mutinous drawer I might say).

Mrs S (the Binland one) said to me this morning that if something doesn't make you happy, then turf it out.

Thinking about this, the tiler is on thin ice.  He's just shouted for another cup of tea.  This time, I've served it with a piece of extra sticky flapjack.

I'm expecting peace and quiet for next couple of hours...