Friday, 10 February 2012

I Have the Best Friends in the World...

Honestly.  I just wish there was something I could do to show how much I appreciate each and every one of you!  I feel like a rotten friend in comparison.

And a rotten blogger.  I just took another month off, didn't I?  Anyway, back to business!  Do me a favour and SCREAM at me if I disappear again, okay?  I have so much that I want to share with you all in the present day, but I'll never catch up unless I really set my mind to this.  I'm practically eighteen months behind now, for goodness sake!

September 21st 2010

We didn't leave the house.

David spent all the daylight hours clearing the hall in preparation for the gas men to come in and check the meter.  He kept yelling at me for not helping him, but I was so sick with my allergies by that point that even sitting in the lounge while he was stirring up dust was rendering me unable to breathe with terrible chest pains, so I knew I'd be in real trouble if I went out there.  My tongue felt like it was on fire too (another symptom of my allergies)...

When he finally managed to clear a path to the cupboard he discovered that all of his bottles of wine (which he has stored under there since before I was even born) had fallen over.  Apparently the "mice had knocked them over".  I expect they drunk all the wine that has evaporated from the bottles over the years too.  Wow, those must be some tipsy mice!

Then, at dinnertime, he disappeared to Woodberry where he stayed until 10.30pm.  He promised to bring McFlurries home for us but he forgot to do so...just as well really, as Mum would have considered it far too late to be eating anyway!

David's excuse for going to Woodberry was that he needed to clear space in preparation for the carpet layers who were coming the following day.  That still doesn't explain why he was out so late though.  And when he finally did come back, he started shouting at us that he had a "bad back from carrying things" because we "refused to go with him to help".  Well, actually, I would have liked to have gone over there and helped if just to get out of the dust and grime of Grottsville for a while, but he chose to go right when we were in the middle of eating dinner!

The workmen outside were driving us crazy...not just in the sense that they had kept us in all that day by forcing us to clear the hall (which had also stirred up a lot of dust and set my allergies off again), but because they were just so loud and rude.  They were wandering around in our front garden, throwing tools and big orange plastic fences around willy-nilly.  I seriously thought David wouldn't be able to reverse the car into the garden by the time he got back.  They also dug a HUGE hole outside Hussein's house, right up against the border between our garden and his.  He and his family were out at the time too, so I figure they dug up their garden and smashed out the paving stones without even telling them what they were going to do!  And all the time they kept SHOUTING in loud, common voices which were driving us totally bananas.

Upon seeing the hole in the ground, I was reminded of Bernard Cribbins' old song, only if I was the bloke in the bowler hat I would have quite happily buried the workmen there and then!

I was getting really worried about my breathing problems, but Mum had a go at me for complaining as I was "scaring her".  And it was my own fault as I was "being silly and not going to the doctor".  Well, the doctor had already told me that she couldn't do anything for me anyway, and that I just needed to get away from the dust.  Also, I wouldn't walk around in that area anymore what with Scar Face and his cronies following me around so I was beholden to David and needed to know when he could give me a lift to the surgery before I booked an appointment.

I was also getting very worried about the Dolly Mix Pony situation.  I felt responsible for all the people I'd offered to "help" who could have got them elsewhere by now, and yet I was already out of pocket from all the duplicates from the first set which I couldn't even seem to give away - and nobody would pay me until I had a full set for them so I was getting myself further and further into debt with it all. >.<  I was so desperate that I was considering making a bulk order directly from The Little Factory, the company who made them.  But Mum said I was "being ridiculous" which was probably the truth.  I had contacted the company about it already and the minimum order was five boxes of ten ponies at the retail price of £1.49 each bag, and there was no guarantee that ANY of the five boxes would contain the elusive second set.  The whole thing had turned into a total nightmare.

September 22nd 2010
I got up early so that I could avoid the embarrassment of being in those rude gas men trampling through our cluttered filthy house by going to Woodberry.  David still stayed in the bathroom until it was almost time to leave so I didn't get much of a chance to get washed and dressed.  Then David started yelling at ME for making us late!  "DIZ-UH-ROY!  Oi don't understand whoy ya even 'ave ta cam!"  No, of course not.  He'd be happy for me to never leave the house at all, wouldn't he?  As it was, I forgot my necklace and had to rush out of the house with a banana clasped in one hand (my breakfast!) and my moisturiser in the other!

When we arrived at Woodberry, we discovered that the back doors were completely "steamed up".  We couldn't see through them for the condensation on the outside of the glass.  Of course, we didn't usually spend time at the house that early in the morning, so we hadn't seen this problem before.  I guess Sickton's builders failed to fit and seal the windows correctly...which would also explain the icy drafts in the extension.

The carpet fitters were already waiting outside, so I couldn't get to my bedroom to hide/apply moisturiser/"guard ponies".  Okay, the latter was just my excuse for being anti-social really but, as it turned out, the carpet fitters were a genuine threat.  They were just as rude and useless as all the other workmen we come into contact with.  They cut the carpet for Mum's family history room/office far too short and wanted to patch it up with off cuts from the stair carpet (which was the same colour!) fear!  We've paid a lot of money for these carpets and for you to lay them PROPERLY!  When they finished the job, they threw all the rubbish (off cuts/staples/God knows what else) in MY ROOM on top of my lovely clean cream carpet and walked all round the rubbish pile in dusty boots.  Aaaaagh!  I was so angry that I failed to take a photo before throwing all the rubbish out onto the landing, but you can see some of the footprints and the rubbish in question (out on the landing by that point) in the photos below...

Oh well, at least the stairs/landing/extension carpets were in place by the end of the day.  Here are a few photos, but we hadn't had a chance to clear up and hoover up all the loose fibres at that point, so please excuse the mess!

Around lunchtime, David came back to Woodberry and asked me to come with him to pick up the new granite for the peach bathroom.  Somebody had to go in the car to hold the bathroom sink so that it didn't smash!  The granite looked nice but David was really arrogant to the bloke, telling him it was the wrong size (it wasn't).

After taking the sink and granite back to Woodberry, we all headed back to Grottsville to wait for the gas men (yes, I ended up having to be in the house at the time those dirty, noisy people trampled through it anyway!)  They were late and we were left with no gas or hot water until long after it got dark...and, as we had hardly any light in the slum we called home in Grottsville, it was impossible for them to see what they were doing without the use of a torch.

I stood on the other side of the lounge door taping their horrific voices for a couple of friends who, for some reason best known to themselves, actually enjoy hearing the English language being butchered by commoners such as these men! (Just kidding, of course!)  David knew the lounge door was to remain firmly closed until those men were out of there as Mum and I were so awfully embarrassed by the dirt and mess everywhere.  But stupidly, he decided to push the door.  I pushed back, enforcing that we didn't WANT him to open the door.  But he just kept pushing.  He ended up scuffing my hand painted MLP door hanger and, better yet, breaking the door with his foot!

Of course, as soon as the workmen left, he started yelling at ME that I had broken the door and caused him to hurt his foot!  Uh...who was the one continuing to try and open the door despite feeling me desperately struggling to hold it shut on the other side?!  And why would you push at it with your foot like that anyway?  Furthermore, why was the door made of such thin plywood?  The door was there before my parents even moved to the house, but I always presumed it to be solid wood.  Then again, I guess it was a pretty light weight door so we should have know better than that.

Later, we had an argument about David's pornography obsession.  I don't remember the exact details, but David accused Mum of "winding me up" (I can't have opinions of my own apparently!) and I ended up kicking him, hurting my toe in the process!  So both of us ended up with a bad foot.

Mum found the scratches/water damage on her precious antique table where my Show Stable and Lullabye Nursery had stood for years.  This prompted her to look at her other antique table which she discovered had some small scratches and she blamed me for that too.  *Sighs*  I might have known she'd find the damage sooner or later, so I guess I should have just been honest about it in the first place...although I really don't know how the table got water damaged or how the other one got scratched.  I've never touched that one!

We had Aero McFlurries that night... a highlight to a rather stressful day.

And, I think I'll leave it there.  I like to do 4-day blogs (and I NEED to do them on a daily basis now that I've got so far behind!), but I have to be up really early in the morning and should probably get to bed.

Give me a very hard virtual kick if I disappear again!  Otherwise we'll never get to the end of the story!

Best wishes, and thanks for reading,
Desirée  xxx

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