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Sick of Paint

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I am now officially tired. No wait… Far beyond tired. I nodded at exhausted in passing. I waved at comatose. I shared a quick nightcap with half-dead. I am in fact the living dead. I move with a sort of half-shuffle, half-stagger and have to sit down regularly otherwise I’d fall over. We did 14 hour days at the weekend and then I went to work. Then last night went straight to the village, had a bite to eat and started work again. We didn’t get home til around 11:30 and then had to have a drink and watch tv for a while just to calm down and stop the adrenaline buzz. Thus, because despite the fact that I was shattered, I couldn’t get to sleep until 1:30am. I then woke up at 4:30 with killer heartburn and stayed awake tossing and turning for an hour until I got up at 5:30, went downstairs and drank milk before collapsing on the living room sofa where my disturbed night wouldn’t keep Mrs Moosehunter awake. I then had a fitful two hours on the sofa, got up and came to work. However, there is now a plan emerging in my head.

Tuesday: Some of the packing and finish off the house. Yes we’re now that close. A couple of hours work and the house is done as far as we’re concerned. Only waiting then for the carpets to go in.

Wednesday: Packing like mad. Mrs M has the rest of the week off, but I’ve no holiday so I’ll still be doing 14 hour days.

Thursday: Work through my lunch and finish at 4 so that I can be home when the Geordie turns up with his work’s wagon. He’s very kindly borrowed it to help us move everything. And other friends and family are coming to help. I reckon we can get everything loaded up, moved, and dropped in the village by 7 at the latest, which means we can then (on the assumption the carpet’s actually there) move the furniture into place.

Thursday night: Come back to Ripon and spend our last night in the old house, much the same as we spent the first night… on an airbed with only the clothes we need for the next day and watching a DVD on the laptop before sleep.

Friday: While I come to work, Mrs M goes round the house with the estate agents and claims back our bond, hands in the keys and then goes to the village to begin the monstrous task of unpacking. On friday night I will join in with that and if we really push friday night we will have:

Saturday & Sunday: Doing little bits and pieces of remaining unpacking, but generally relaxing in our nice new house.


Last night’s decorating lolapalooza included some real interesting scenes. Our method of doing the walls and ceiling on the particularly high stairs was a nice one. Mrs M attached a roller to an extending pole and used that and when she’d finished with that, I strapped a paint brush to it and did the edges round the ceiling 10 feet above me and leaning over the bannister. Another great one was when I was busy working away and my beloved suddenly exploded behind me with phrases like ‘f***ing paint… I hate bloody paint. Never talk to me about paint again.’ Then every couple of minutes there’d be another ‘f***ing paint!’ from somewhere out of sight. When I went to the kitchen for a breather, I returned to find her sat on the top step next to the paint tray with wild eyes, rocking slowly backwards and forwards like something out of One Flew Over The Cuckoo’s Nest. I’ll be so glad when we’re in. We’re both in extreme danger: she of incurable mental illness and I of merely shrivelling up and collapsing in a sobbing and snoring heap.

Yesterday I almost coped with the tiredness because the Moleman wasn’t in. Today I’m even more tired and it’s back in its chair and already annoying me. This bodes.

See you in the crazy house.



Written by SJAT

January 5, 2010 at 4:46 pm

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