Gingerbread Woman

a case of mistaken identity rather than a miracle

But I promised not to go there.

Today has been stressful. Mostly of the father generated kind. Dad has been fabulous in helping with the house, but as is so often the case, his involvement comes at a price, usually yielding of complete control. He's stressed that I've followed his advice to get the guys to do tasks rather than rooms, i.e strip all the walls, then paint all the ceilings, and hence the whole place is in chaos. He's worried, as I am, that the baby will come before anything gets finished.

So he decided to lampoon Les, my terrific builder. Les is a love, so concerned was he about me sleeping in a house with a hole in the wall that he turned up with a full tool kit at 8am Saturday morning to build me a makeshift back door. Admittedly, it was mostly fabric and not hard to get through with the aid of say, a knife, but I loved him for it regardless.

He's also rearranged his other jobs to get my french windows in in the shortest possible time, thus solving the hole in the wall dilemma, and has just been an all round superstar.The argument centred round Les's reluctance to plumb in my kitchen, Les' argument, he's not a plumber. 'Fair enough' says the bump lugger, 'let's find a plumber then'. Ken,'do it on the cheap' Eason objects. Him and Les scream at each other for an hour, I retreat. Try and make amends when Dad has gone with vats of coffee and the advice of 'just say 'yes Ken' and then you and I will do our own thing Les'.

Dad then nearly starts on Shane who turns in a bit late, but I put my foot down and shoo him out the door.

An hour later he's back.
He's found a plumber, who also happens to be a plasterer and a decorator and horray, is moving into my house with his wife for two weeks tomorrow. So I need to find them a double bed and could Shane just stop making a decent job of my paintwork and finish it all off with a quick slap of paint so my bedroom is sorted cos they can sleep there seeing as how there is only one double bed, and could I get the place hoovered so they have a nice room, and sort out towels and bedding and stuff and by the way, they're a pair of boozers but harmless enough though I may want to find somewhere else to live cos they do row when they've had a few, but he comes for fifty quid a day and she comes with him.

I say 'Dad, could they stay with you tomorrow seeing as how they don't start work till Thursday as I've a paper to finish that's urgent for work, and a midwife appointment, and an antenatal class and could do without being under pressure to get this tip into guest house status at the same time and finding somewhere to stay to boot?' he says 'no way, they're not staying with me, I just have them work for me but not stay, they're at yours'.
I say, 'thanks very much, I appreciate you're trying to get me sorted, cheers for organising that'. I then mention that whilst I'd be glad of the help on the plastering and decorating front, I have stayed in a house this man has plumbed, and it was a tad on the noisy side (think space shuttle lift off every time you pull a chain / run a tap), but that didn't go down well so naturally they're starting with the plumbing.

Through all of this he's dreadful, lampooning me at one point for the fact there's a wardrobe in the top room left by the old inhabitants which will interefere with the plastering. I mention that lugging this down 4 flights of stairs to the unpacked stuff room whilst pregnant is not really an option, but whilst I know he'd go ballistic if I tried to, he's in an unreasonable mood and that fails to pacify him.

Maggie mentions that his hip is playing up quite badly, hence the short fuse and then rings me later to say she's got the bedding and towels, bless her as I have no washing machine due to the unplumbed kitchen and my towels are awaiting one.

I'd probably have cried if not screamed and started rocking, but as always there's someone looking after me. Today she sent the kind man from work who turns out not to think I'm nuts and has been the perfect gentle antedote to distract me from the roaring. Cathy also sent me a moving in card with a frog on the front and the words, 'frog / mermaid - quite similar?' inside, which made me laugh out loud.

posted by The Gypsy @ 10:04 pm