Insanity interlude.

Part twelve. Possibly.

I am going mad! My sleep pattern has reverted to one similar to that which I adopted when my youngest was a baby. Fitful dozing in between feeds, or in this case, fitful dozing in between shits (or whatever else arouses the hounds from their slumber). It’s alright for them, they then sleep for most of the day. I have a house to renovate. This process is already well in the running for the slowest renovation ever. I mean, it’s not as if I have to replace windows or knock holes in walls, I just have to tidy up and paint (and clear twenty years worth of crap left by a family of four, and repair all the damage that accrues when you have two stroppy teenagers and an ex with a nasty temper). So I don’t know what the holdup is, though I suspect Himself’s malign influence. It’s just a sort of paralysis which descends when the incantation ‘we need to discuss…’ is uttered.

I am so utterly sick of painting that I came to an agreement with Himself. I would do all the prep (which he hates) and he would do the painting. Well, that was the plan.  So I scrubbed and scraped and filled and sanded for the last couple of weeks. (I also boxed and stacked and drove to the tip and sat with my head in my hands despairing and wondering why I gave up smoking). So I thought the kitchen and bathroom were ready to go….Himself arrived, eventually (I’m sure he’s trying to avoid the painting) and threw a brief glance over my handiwork before we headed for the pub.

Now, I’m sat at the doghouse waiting for a bed to be delivered (it was due two weeks ago, a guest bed for me to sleep in…) Himself has phoned me up to inform me that painting will be impossible (you might wonder why he isn’t here with me, well it’s because the prospect of sleeping, or even lying on a waterbed had him heading for the hills at speed. So he sleeps on a mattress on the floor at my house and I sleep here on a waterbed in the doghouse. Does that make any sense???). So now he has found another reason not to paint until he has my opinion (in person) on some cupboard doors…and I am stuck here waiting for a bloody bed (which I will now never sleep in) to be delivered from… wait for it… Oooop North. Practically next door to Himself in fact! Did I mention I was going mad?

To relieve the tedium I have hoovered everything (including the dogbeds and occasionally, bits of dog), I have wiped and dusted and deodorised everything, especially the dog. Now I just wait….

And wait….

So the bed arrived, about an hour before I planned to throw in the towel and go and have an argument with himself.

The human residents of the Doghouse returned, relatively unscathed from their travels.

I still don’t have a painted kitchen or bathroom (although there is a first coat on the ceiling), no, instead I have the frame (but not the doors) for a new cupboard in the kitchen, the reason for this is that the aperture is not a standard size. Himself has spent hours (and hours, and hours…) in an assortment of DIY and builders supply merchants, searching for stuff he can chop up (among other things). I have spent the same hours in the same places, searching for ways in which to commit instant murder and remain undetected (although, to be honest, I don’t really care about the last bit)

So far he has deconstructed my kitchen, removing the sink and washing machine (which coincided nicely with the arrival of the men from the power company, who cut off the power for eight hours), made some further holes in my bathroom, created large piles of rubbish which will necessitate a trip to the tip, lost an assortment of tools and other small items (most have been recovered) and done no painting whatsoever. There are new lights in the bedroom, although they wouldn't look out of place in a public convenience and something has happened to the toilet. He has done an epic quantity of swearing though!

Meanwhile, when I wasn’t trailing hopelessly around DIY stores, I was….painting the woodwork in the hall, stairs and landing. Did I miss something????

I have, however managed to find a few books on wildflowers, wildlife and other interesting things like vegetables. When I tire of contemplating murder I am planning the arrangement of fruit trees in my garden and devising schemes for crop rotation next year. There will be a lot of beans, and possibly corn. I also discovered how to make a makeshift root cellar whilst using a well known bookshop as an unofficial library.  Oh yes, and I keep finding lists, down the side of the bed, abandoned on radiators, drifting in the breeze.... Mostly they are illegible.