My week deteriorated further. Poor advance planning on stool purchases aside, my pièce de résisitance was yet to come. LSB is referring to the most recent debacle as ‘revenge of the skip’. You may have noted that skips seem to have exerted a magnetic pull over me of late. Firstly, a succession have been filled outside our home with the remnants of my former kitchen, amongst other rubble. There’s the skips I’ve been rummaging about in, salvaging small tables and units destined for landfill. And then there’s the ones I just drive straight into for a bit of pre-weekend entertainment. Yes, you read that right What a dick. How could you just drive straight into something? Well quite easily apparently, if you’re me. I was up to my old tricks, recovering some old cupboards for my utility room from a friend’s house. (I did ask first.) In my haste to deliver LSB to work before half past nine and get my builders to install said cupboards, I misjudged how skips jut out a bit at the bottom and “Boom”, straight into it I went and took off my headlight and a lot more besides.
I seek comfort in the fact that others while under duress do the same things. I have a lovely friend, whom I consider to have excellent judgement. Anytime we meet up I feel the better for it. Have you ever seen on Mumsnet how it says AIBU and people ask the opinions of some randomers before they tell their boss to go f**k themselves or fire their nanny for feeding their children shite? Well I would just ring this friend, and she would say in the nicest possible way to wind my neck in and take myself out for coffee and a bun. She’s fabulous. But when under stress herself, she shouldn’t be let near a motor. She is forever reversing into posts or bollards,though thankfully no pedestrians to the best of my knowledge. If her mother knows she is frazzled she leaves voicemail messages saying “TAKE A BUS.’
I wish to God I had just taken a bus, but it was quite a heavy cupboard. Anyway, there were silver linings. One, I was rattled and there’s a lesson there. If you’re rattled, take a pew, and breathe deeply. Go to yoga, have a latte, or sit on your arse but don’t go racing round in a frenzy. The chore can wait. Two, in a crisis, have LSB nearby. God almighty, I hate to be a smug sort of creature but he was rather terrific. He informed his work he’d be late and accompanied me to a garage. Then he took me for a coffee to settle my nerves and took over the house business for the morning, since my project management skills were somewhat impaired. He was also remarkably sanguine about the whole episode, which was a comfort indeed.
Plus, after I’d embarrassed myself yowling in front of the builders they went into overdrive and galvanised themselves into action. Stuff was actually done for a change.
Incidentally, if you do go driving into things, go to Breda Tyres. There’s a mechanic there called Keith who is a saintly sort of fellow and he’ll sort you out in a jiffy. He is so soothing on the nerves that he really ought to work in A&E. I arrived in tears and left feeling as though I’d just won the Premium Bonds. He’s a dote.
But onwards and upwards and moving back home next week. Expect posts on the topic of botched DIY and financial penury. And the swearing will go off the scale. (What’s new, sez you).
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