TOOTHLESS WITH THE HAMMER

OK, my early morning started with the smell beating at my nose, and fumes eating my lungs and proving my eyes react in ways I don’t like.

Yes, the paint is rather strong.

Oh God, I’m a little on the scared side. My painter now has his hammer. I told him that I knew a joiner, and if he really didn’t feel he could do the job, I would call him and get the other guy to finish the job. He said, O M G, wait for it

“Oh, it’s OK, I

(met a lady on the bus … … … and she said if he needs a hand, she will come along!”)

Good God.

Hub is going to kill me.

OK, I want to swear right now.

But you know what? I have faith in my toothless painter.

Hahahahaha.

Want to swear again.

So, last night’s delights were our Chinese. Now, I could not go to the restaurant as really we can’t keep doing that. So my …

Went to pick up a £5 take away for me and … had

Well, I can’t really talk about the dotted one, so I won’t say, but it was not with me and not a Chinese. Hahahaha.

For new Bloggets, you will need to read back, to see what the heck I’m talking about, as this must be a confusing read.

For those older Bloggets, well, you are all used to being confused with me so feel at home…

So, I ate my meal, out of a tray and bag. Yep. In the middle of the living room floor, on a bar stool. The ones I bought for my new kitchen before our breakfast bar was put in. On the promise that our joiner would be back.

Because they were much much less than half price. Right, so last night, there I am, eating my take away. I felt as though I was about to give a key note speech on the enjoy ability of eating Chinese food from a paper bag.

Stuck in the middle of the floor. Then I remembered, my neighbour who should work for neighbourhood watch will be looking at every bite. Did I care?

Nope.

As I ate my food like there was no tomorrow, I satisfied myself with spring rolls “Vegetarian” and salt and pepper mushrooms.

Today, I stuffed two slices of toast and a warmish cup of tea.

I say warmish, as my new kettle is not good at the boiling.

When the baby kettle was growing up in the factory of future Fifi kettles, she for sure was not taught the lesson of how to boil.

My Hub hates it, he wants his old kettle back and although I agree, I have one problem.

 The old kettle is black; my kitchen is red and cream, with light brown work surfaces and cream units. Are you getting me?

No?

Oh!

My new kettle is cream. I think I would get on most peoples nerves, because I am a stickler for matching colours. Obsessed I think is the word, but for me this is a good sign. As for probably the fourteen years of my life in the blind world, I have not hardly cared about colours in my home. I still talked of colour but even that is rather new, as only since I have been reunited with my Hub and he has entered me into the school of darkness.

Hahahah. OK, we are entering the area of Harry Potters Hogwarts and Professor

 Amycus Carrow, defence against the dark arts. Well, Hub teaches me life in the dark and I teach him art.

Get me?

Hahaha. OK, I think the paint is getting to my brain. So on that note, I shall leave you for now. x