Saturday, 7 March 2015

Bedroom Swap

I wrote this last week on Facebook during the marathon 'bedroom swap' and decided to share it here too - as I used to in the olden days before social media got in the way:

Not everything in this pic is still there, I was mid-rearranging.
As it's quite clear that Chavsda and the feral yoofs and yoofesses are still waking me through the night and aren't about to give in - despite the council visiting Asda - I think it's time to give in and switch bedrooms.

So ... let operation *BEDROOM SWAP* commence.

This isn't as easy as you may think because the other - smaller, *underwater* - bedroom currently houses 'BigJobs', my lovely underused - at the mo - computer and all the paraphernalia that goes with it ... big desk, scanner/printer, blah blah blah.

My craft desk and half ton of crap that I've amassed to make cards that I'm no longer making ... but one day.

New view from my bed
Sun bed that no one wants. MY iron and MY ironing board. I love ironing and get all my best ideas standing with iron in hand - even though I've got a steamy thing (oh yeah, and that) - whilst gazing through the window.

More stuff to go to the charity shop ... my chauffeur is taking that out of my way.

Stuffed toys. I need to give most of these away as they're totally unnecessary ... I keep putting them in plastic bags then fetch 'em back out 'coz they can't breathe.

And last but not least, stuff from the tin hut that I can't cram in anywhere else.

It's Wednesday now and I will be missing at least until the weekend. Probably without food, I may have to eat my left leg ... or not, it's another set of triple fast days ahead of me. Got to shift this lard that I've had since I was 13. It's hanging on and on and on. Time for it to give in and let go.

I can't believe my husband has just been up to ask me about whether some old trainers need chucking out. I'm here with this! Half in half out the room. And he just went again, never offered me a chuffin hand or owt.
Oh duck! I'm stuck! I'm going to have to phone him.

Escaped! Getting serious now. All jewellery off and I'm down to my smalls in an attempt to keep cool.

Knackered! Rearranged front bedroom until I've got no strength left and I'm still not happy. Off I go back to have another go. If it's not working for me this time then the single bed will have to go ... as Mr Grumpy keeps telling me.

Mostly crafting essentials - completely rearranged 8 times in 3 days.
Why is my effin brain switched off? Common sense tells you that when something heavy - under-bed drawer full of crafting crap - is balanced precariously coz summat else (ironing board) is holding up proceedings - you don't nudge said ironing board with your knee when your bloody feet are under the drawer. I daren't look at my bruises. I'd already amassed a fair few without doing this. Oh well, back I go to put the other drawer in.

Hmmm, it's like this. I didn't stop lifting, moving, dropping, rearranging crap - apart from my very brief whingy updates - until after 6.30pm. I'm ever so slightly peckish having eaten nowt and I'm currently in the bath admiring my bruises ... how do I get out of the bath? In fact how do I reach the shampoo, soap then towel?

To my right, the woody bits are part of the sunken galleon oddjob made

Himself and Miss Tia Pussykins are trying out the new bedroom. I bet one of them would come to my assistance if I shouted.

Hmmm, may as well stop here, I can keep topping up with hot water using my left foot.
Oh, I'm saved, Mr Grumpy is here passing me soap. I daren't tell him I want the shampoo first ...

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Be nice, I'm very sensitive.