Working on Saturday...
is completely and utterly vile. I have spent my so called day off, scraping all manner of crap off walls and carrying rotting stinking mouldy lino out to a skip. I am filthy, my back is sore and if on more thing scuttles across/ over/ towards/ down my shirt/ up my pants leg/out of my bra, I will most surely scream. The stitches in my shoulder are REALLY itchy and I can't scratch them
To top it all off, the paramour seems to think this 'house' will be fit for co-habitation before Christmas. And when I scoffed at this he fixed me with his eye and said...
'Well? You tell me? When are we going to move in together... properly? '
'Sheeet, we spend most nights together as it is.' I say.
'That's not the same thing at all.'
'I'm not moving in here until it's ready.'
'You know you haven't even looked for someone to rent the apartment yet.'
''So, it will go quickly when it's available.'
'Oh yeah? And when might that be?'
'I don't know.'
'You're stalling.'
'I am NOT! How can I be stalling? I don't actually have anywhere else to live.'
'Harumph.' He said and went back to yanking the rotting skirting board off the wall of what he laughingly refers to as the sitting room.
I shake a spider the size of a small dog from my sleeve and head back to the landing, pausing to watch my future husband work for a mo. He looks hot and serious...and a bit fed up.
He is totally right, I am stalling.
On the plus side, if Etheline makes up her fucking mind if she really is leaving that Kevin or not, I can rent it to her.
To top it all off, the paramour seems to think this 'house' will be fit for co-habitation before Christmas. And when I scoffed at this he fixed me with his eye and said...
'Well? You tell me? When are we going to move in together... properly? '
'Sheeet, we spend most nights together as it is.' I say.
'That's not the same thing at all.'
'I'm not moving in here until it's ready.'
'You know you haven't even looked for someone to rent the apartment yet.'
''So, it will go quickly when it's available.'
'Oh yeah? And when might that be?'
'I don't know.'
'You're stalling.'
'I am NOT! How can I be stalling? I don't actually have anywhere else to live.'
'Harumph.' He said and went back to yanking the rotting skirting board off the wall of what he laughingly refers to as the sitting room.
I shake a spider the size of a small dog from my sleeve and head back to the landing, pausing to watch my future husband work for a mo. He looks hot and serious...and a bit fed up.
He is totally right, I am stalling.
On the plus side, if Etheline makes up her fucking mind if she really is leaving that Kevin or not, I can rent it to her.
posted by fatmammycat at 4:24 p.m.
4 Comments:
Why not have the paramour move in with you while you work on the house?
How is Etheline doing?
Er... Fmc? [sotto voce] It's not called "working"... it's nesting!
So, you clean the shit out of it and make it all nice so your mother can come and criticise it nicely... and be kind enough to mention the draughts to your brother and not to you.
ps If you think you've got a clean-up job you should see the imminent Drummshack...
Ow, my bloody head. Anyhoo, Boliath, I might have to do just that as his house is nearly sold. Old Etheline is in denial. Reckons she was over reacting. Okay I said. But I don't know what to make of it really. I think she is having second thoughts about it all, but who knows with her. She's as changable as the wind.
Conan, I know you've got builders in, so my sympathies to you. And if my mother opens her yap to me about the huose other than to say 'ah, so this is the house', I'll throttle her with my bare hands.
Speaking as an old married lady (ok, only 4 years married, but 6 years cohabitating), I am 100% behind keeping your rear end planted in your apartment until the house is well and truly ready to move in. There are a million other things to worry about--being pissed off at the state of your abode shouldn't be one of them.
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