I've lost count of the number of times that we've tidied and re-tidied the flat over the last eighteen months. Every time we make some progress, we have a new workman/builder/contractor in to cause chaos and undo all our good work. This time it had been the carpet fitters. All the carpets were between twenty and forty years old and were in a shocking state - plenty of wear and tear which included many spills and stains from growing children meant that I let the painter cut away all the edges of the carpets so we could get a good finish on the skirting boards. Last year when the kitchen was refitted, the ceiling was pulled down, and essentially 200 years of shit came with it, covering everything in a black sticky soot. It was gross. I can't tell you why but the night before the carpet fitters arrived, I had my head down on the carpet in the hallway. All I could smell was years of stale cooking.
But their arrival meant more furniture moving...and then putting back the day after. Thank heavens The Cat's Mum was there to help. I'm not sure what she thinks she's got herself into, having paid someone to clean her house for the last twenty years. Still, a change is as good as a rest as I like to say to her. Often.
So upstairs is now done. Lovely cream carpets in the music room and the play room (that's the one with the Playstation in)) and a blood red hall carpet that flows down the stairs. It's delicious.
Next week the carpet fitters will be back to do downstairs. This may just push me over the edge, but I'm sure the results will be worth it. And at least I'll have the job of making them at least a dozen mugs of tea to keep me occupied.
And the whole thing keeps my mind off work at the moment which can only be a good thing as we lurch from one recession to the doldrums to another recession.
