Out With The Old ...

If you've read my previous post, you'll know that I've been tittering to myself since last Friday. I'll start from the beginning to paint the picture, so to speak.

Monday Evening:
We returned home from our tin hut by the sea with two new sets of bedside draws - a bargain from Skegness Focus as they were closing down.

Tuesday:
I armed myself with the required tools and set about building the cabinet/draws. My grumpy old man was hovering ... I wish he wouldn't as I like to do things alone unless there's a tricky screw I'm not tough enough to turn - and he knows this.

But no, he considerately told me what went where and reminded me not to forget the glue when putting the dowels in the drawer fronts. I reminded him who built every single kitchen cabinet and drawer. All he had to do was simply carry each one into the kitchen and dart (or something rhyming) about with his spirit level, declaring each time, 'Ooooh, that's level'.

It was hot so he thoughtfully got the big fan down from the attic ... yes the same fan I trod on during Friday night - because it never got put away - bending back my poor toe.

The draws were put in place, the old bedside cupboards were taken to the tip. Now I must ask all my friends who read this ... If I'm out shopping with you, please don't let me buy any body sprays or lotions. I could stock Boots! I'm a bugger for buying stuff, placing it where I'll use it. A few weeks go by - after I've used probably a centimetre of body lotion and a few of squirts of spray - then I decide everywhere is untidy.

Don't ask me why I decide this as I'm normally oblivious to my surroundings (my neighbour can confirm this) ... but I strongly suspect it's hormonal. Everything gets shoved in a cupboard or drawer in a willy nilly fashion and a week later I'm buying replacements. This also happens in the bathroom ... I DO NOT NEED ANY MORE BUBBLE-BATH OR SHOWER GEL! It's only a pity I'm not a domestic Goddess for three weeks out of every four and a slob for the one week, instead of the other way around.

Note to self: all my lotions and potions are now in a draw under the bed - the bottom of which is sagging alarmingly!

Hmmm, until that ancient, overwhelmingly large wardrobe goes and everything is rearranged, the bedroom door is in the way. It's forever launching itself at me as I try to walk past, either catching my elbow, dragging me back with a sleeve or pocket, stubbing my big toe, bending back my little toe or just generally trying to flatten my boobs. I requested that my GOM take it off and store it in the attic as it's never shut anyway. We have three doors in the attic now, mostly for the reasons outlined above.

Now I think about it, my GOM spends a fair bit of time moving things (not the fan) so I don't walk into them - anyone would think I was clumsy.

Wednesday:
You know, for the life of me, I can't remember what I did on Wednesday - it's a blank.

Thursday:
That wardrobe really has got to go, it's getting on my nerves ... but where do I put my clothes? Well, I've been asking grumpy for years to put a rail up in my two middle cupboards - there's six altogether, nine feet high and built into the alcove left of the chimney breast, his six are on the right. I wanted them poshed up and extended out but was prepared to compromise with just a rail (for now) to take my hanging clothes - which I never wear but may become fashionable - or even fit me again - sometime in the next twenty years.

This was eventually accomplished with much sawing, screwing and shelf rearranging. Oh heck, more lotions and potions in the bottom cupboards. The bed was by now full of clothes, draws (as my chest of draws was now in the way and needed shifting) and one cat who steadfastly refused to move.

Charity bags to the rescue!! I filled two with my best clothes that I'd bought on a whim and will never wear (okay, most don't fit). Then filled a bin bag with my worst clothes (boo hoo). They were all eventually prised from my fingers to be whisked away by my butler/chauffeur before I had time to change my mind - again. I cheered myself up with the knowledge that I could fill at least four more bags before I noticed anything was missing ... and now my side of the wardrobe was empty!

Friday:
The day we finally got rid of an ancient piece of furniture - yes that wardrobe was nearly as old as me. There was some crap in there I can tell you (his side). Not to mention the black and white telly in one of MY cupboards.

Now, where I was to be found poncing around in three bras (at the same time - very uplifting), a black and purple garter and a pair of red Budweiser braces during my cupboard and drawer rearranging (yes, I was fully dressed, I'm just daft), today my GOM was to be found wearing a Nottingham Forest scarf, fifteen ties, eight belts and a Jerry Lee Lewis T-shirt during the emptying of his stuff from the deepest recesses of the monolith.

Once it was empty and he was sure that we were doing this - sigh - to his wardrobe, we got on with taking it apart. There was lots of unscrewing and conversations that went ... 'over to you' ... 'have you got it?' ... 'pull it harder than that!' ... 'now just ease it this way' ... 'No, No, No!' ... 'ah, do it yerself!' ... 'no, no, come back here and hold this' ... 'I've broke a nail and I'm not playing anymore!' Eventually the wardrobe was door-less and in two halves.

Hmmm, now we've got to get these halves downstairs and onto the yard to be cut up and taken to the tip. This was achieved easily with one - me at the bottom to be squashed if he let go - the second required a return trip back upstairs to turn it around as we couldn't negotiate the corner at the bottom of the stairs. Grumpy was nearly in tears when he put the bits in the car, muttering that 'it's a shame, it's good wood that is'.

The wardrobe doors (got a nice theme going here) were going in the attic because 'you never know when they'll come in handy'.

Oh dear, oh dear, the doors didn't make it to the attic until Saturday, which is a shame really - I really must take this grin off my face. During the Friday night - when I woke grumpy to tell him why I was awake - first he got cramp in his leg and made so much noise that I couldn't hear the Asda delivery properly. Then he went to the loo ... on his way back he walked into the wardrobe doors leaning on the landing wall ... 'Owww, owww owww. I've broke me toe!' ... sympathetic reply 'Hurts, doesn't it?' ... and 'I bet you've woke the neighbours up.'

YES!! ...