Word on the street is that I'll do anything to get a day off. Even give myself heart palpitations, numb arms, and shooting pains.
So I spent yesterday at the Launceston General, letting them stick me with needles etc. I've never had an arterial blood test before! It is even more interesting when they let a university student jab away trying to find said artery (unsuccessfully). 'A little more angle, yes, maybe the artery is a little deeper than I led you to suspect.....oh, move to one side, I'll find it."
And then they tell me NOT to be nervous but to hold very very still if I just could. I find I have an unparalleled talent for holding still. I am the holding-still queen.
Anyway, long tedious day short, there's nothing wrong with me (apart from the obvious) and I should try and relax a little.
HA!!
I thought they were going to have to admit Tony, he looked so worried. He even took me out for cake afterward, but not coffee, because let's face it - I obviously create enough stimulation all by myself.
Wednesday, April 16, 2008
Monday, April 14, 2008
Day 38? I've lost count
Task for the day:
Paint exterior. More specifically - second coat on the tinwork at the front of the house in a desperate attempt to have it finished before the landscapers rock up. In a strange twist of tradesman fate - they came a day early YESTERDAY when we were only halfway through the first coat. They say they're coming back Wednesday....I think you can trust anyone who calls himself 'Fat Wombat'. It bodes well.
Here's where the bathroom is at:
GONE!
Here's where the kitchen is at:
GONE!
And here's the mess we had after all that fun:
And here's where the painting is at:
Renovating is a journey of self discovery. I have discovered i am not at all scared of heights. Happy as a pig in the proverbial way up on the roof, looking out at the mountains, watching the rain clouds come in.
Then swearing at the rain clouds.
Then getting rained on and watching my whole mornings work turn into a puddle. Then clambering down as fast as my legs will carry me when the wind picks up.
Maybe i'm a little bit scared of heights after all.
But I find that unlike city driving, there is very little that can annoy me. I am so laid back you could carry me around in that little yellow bucket I toss the brushes in when I'm on top of the scaffold. Perhaps it is the disintegration of my muscles after all this hard work.
Tomorrow the action heats up (!) with the plumbers/carpenters and landscapers all expected to lob early am.
I, on the other hand, am lobbing myself and Tony into the nearest hotel tomorrow night.
This is after the none-too-glorious experience of washing my long hair in a bucket (yes, the same yellow one) yesterday. And bathing in a tepid pool of inch high water is not up there on my 'must-experience' list either. Put them both together, with me bathing in an inch of water and washing my hair in a bucket while the wind whistles up my wazoo through the crack under the door - and you've got one unhappy little camper.
Which I think in all conscience, I must now add 'camping' to the list of things I have no intention of ever trying.
I'm trying to convince Tony that tripping off ladders and spraining his ankle should never have made it on his list of 'to-do's' but now he's laid up with a bag of peas (the same bag we used on his neck two weeks ago) on his ankle and a very distressed look on his face. Those peas have been frozen and unfrozen so many times they probably don't know what the heck is going on.
Please send him good vibes (Tony, not the peas).
Anyway - I must go back up on the scaffold to finish the eaves. HOLY MOTHER OF GOD this is taking a long time.
Paint exterior. More specifically - second coat on the tinwork at the front of the house in a desperate attempt to have it finished before the landscapers rock up. In a strange twist of tradesman fate - they came a day early YESTERDAY when we were only halfway through the first coat. They say they're coming back Wednesday....I think you can trust anyone who calls himself 'Fat Wombat'. It bodes well.
Here's where the bathroom is at:
GONE!
Here's where the kitchen is at:
GONE!
And here's the mess we had after all that fun:
And here's where the painting is at:
Renovating is a journey of self discovery. I have discovered i am not at all scared of heights. Happy as a pig in the proverbial way up on the roof, looking out at the mountains, watching the rain clouds come in.
Then swearing at the rain clouds.
Then getting rained on and watching my whole mornings work turn into a puddle. Then clambering down as fast as my legs will carry me when the wind picks up.
Maybe i'm a little bit scared of heights after all.
But I find that unlike city driving, there is very little that can annoy me. I am so laid back you could carry me around in that little yellow bucket I toss the brushes in when I'm on top of the scaffold. Perhaps it is the disintegration of my muscles after all this hard work.
Tomorrow the action heats up (!) with the plumbers/carpenters and landscapers all expected to lob early am.
I, on the other hand, am lobbing myself and Tony into the nearest hotel tomorrow night.
This is after the none-too-glorious experience of washing my long hair in a bucket (yes, the same yellow one) yesterday. And bathing in a tepid pool of inch high water is not up there on my 'must-experience' list either. Put them both together, with me bathing in an inch of water and washing my hair in a bucket while the wind whistles up my wazoo through the crack under the door - and you've got one unhappy little camper.
Which I think in all conscience, I must now add 'camping' to the list of things I have no intention of ever trying.
I'm trying to convince Tony that tripping off ladders and spraining his ankle should never have made it on his list of 'to-do's' but now he's laid up with a bag of peas (the same bag we used on his neck two weeks ago) on his ankle and a very distressed look on his face. Those peas have been frozen and unfrozen so many times they probably don't know what the heck is going on.
Please send him good vibes (Tony, not the peas).
Anyway - I must go back up on the scaffold to finish the eaves. HOLY MOTHER OF GOD this is taking a long time.
Wednesday, April 9, 2008
Day 32 - in which we haul our aching muscles back up the scaffold
More exterior work today. Here's a pic Tony took of me at the end of the day when all I wanted was a good stiff drink.
He handed me a Midori Illusion.
I said 'that's not stiff enough'
He said 'too bad, it's what you bought'.
Why do I always pick the prettiest bottles in the bottle shop rather than something that will do the job, i.e. knock me out? Perhaps I should take some Panadeine with it.
Just joking, Mum.
So we've done two coats of the top part of half the house. We're going to be at it next easter at this rate. I have also discovered that Builders Bog is the Putty of Satan. It hardens in three minutes, smells like hot fibreglass, and has fumes that feel like they're burning my eyes out. After it glued my rubber gloves together, I made a stand - I don't care if the bucket of it cost $30 -- I'm NOT USING IT!!!
Tony discovered that with a little ingenuity and an even spraying method, he can make the ugly chrome door handle a thing of beauty. I am very impressed. Especially considering when he insisted on buying the spray at Bunnings today, I said : 'Oh, go ahead. But don't come running to me when it looks poxy.'
So of course it looks fabulous.
Then there was the farce of my door lacquering ability. You might remember that we sent the front door off to get dipped. Well it came back and I've been mildly successful in my stain/lacquer job. In fact, I thought I was pretty hot stuff, until we went to look at the other doors today and saw the professional kind of job the dip&strip joint does.
Oh dear.
THEY didn't have any drip marks.
THEY didn't have some areas darker than others; and
THEY didn't have any brush marks whatsoever.
So putting on my best 'i-really-don't-want-to-pay-any-more-but-please-mr-nice-man-please
-varnish-my-doors-for-free' face, while Tony COMPLETELY undermined me by saying 'just pay it. Just pay whatever they want', I proceeded to bargain a whole $20 off the price.
Go me.
So now, at least, the rest of the doors won't be bodgy.
So it's triumphs all round here, as we gear up for a night in which we take a bootful of our dirty washing down to the laundromat and eat take out Chinese while we wait for it to go through spin cycle.
I have such a glamorous life.
Sunday, April 6, 2008
Day 27 - In which we move on outside
Exterior, Exterior, our boring white Exterior.
Why do i think you'll be a pain in our posterior?
It's not like we're finished with inside, or anything - but apparently the weather is going to turn NASTY in about three weeks (maybe two) and the people in the know have suggested we get our butts outside and start to paint before it's all too late. I mean, you can see me, can't you, being so very very happy to be outside painting on a cold foggy Launceston morning. Nope. Can't imagine it. In fact it sounds like a quick route to hell.
Which of course begs the question - what the heck colour are we going to paint it? I mean, I thought choosing interior colours was hard - but exterior paint is OUT THERE for the whole world to see when i screw it up majorly.
So much faffing and tooing and frooing has been happening down here.
None of which makes Tony happy.
In fact it makes him very UNhappy.
To the point where yesterday, just before I bought the sample pot he didn't think was necessary to buy, he said to me: "If you change your mind again, I'm going to kill myself."
WELL!
That's quite a forceful and shocking thing to say, when frankly, all I'm trying to do is make it all look good.
So I bought my little sample pot of 'Portland Stone' and spent the afternoon putting it up while he worked like a demon scraping paint off the guttering. And let me tell you, despite my superior understanding of colour and wonderful eye for decorating (ha!) - it looked like total cack.
I'm talking, hey, who rubbed the nappy up on your wall??' kind of cack colour. So disgusting, that I wondered what the heck I could possibly have been thinking. AND to make matters worse, I teamed this godawful colour with a greeny grey that screamed at it just as loud as the screaming in my head.
Ha!
So after a while, Tony came to see what I was up to. He just looked at it and said 'so, we have to find a new colour.'
Thank GOD!!!
So in the end, I trawled the internet and found this NZ company called Resene that makes really pretty exterior colours and two sample pots later we're ready to go. It's not going to set the world on fire - but it's pretty, and i'm happy.
We've got our scaffold (which I'd like to throw our mattress to the top of and sleep on, looks like fun), and Tony has put in some mammoth effort scraping the entire exterior, so there are paint flakes covering the ground.
In other news, I had my first experience with a high pressure cleaner yesterday when I cleaned all the weather boards. And in another one of those 'who knew' moments, it turns out that what i thought was exhaust fumes covering the house is actually a lovely black MOULD.
Attractive. Needless to say, I blasted the crap out of it.
Tony then saw how much fun it all was, and blasted the BBQ area which now looks as good as new. We are exceptionally talented at blasting stuff.
Why do i think you'll be a pain in our posterior?
It's not like we're finished with inside, or anything - but apparently the weather is going to turn NASTY in about three weeks (maybe two) and the people in the know have suggested we get our butts outside and start to paint before it's all too late. I mean, you can see me, can't you, being so very very happy to be outside painting on a cold foggy Launceston morning. Nope. Can't imagine it. In fact it sounds like a quick route to hell.
Which of course begs the question - what the heck colour are we going to paint it? I mean, I thought choosing interior colours was hard - but exterior paint is OUT THERE for the whole world to see when i screw it up majorly.
So much faffing and tooing and frooing has been happening down here.
None of which makes Tony happy.
In fact it makes him very UNhappy.
To the point where yesterday, just before I bought the sample pot he didn't think was necessary to buy, he said to me: "If you change your mind again, I'm going to kill myself."
WELL!
That's quite a forceful and shocking thing to say, when frankly, all I'm trying to do is make it all look good.
So I bought my little sample pot of 'Portland Stone' and spent the afternoon putting it up while he worked like a demon scraping paint off the guttering. And let me tell you, despite my superior understanding of colour and wonderful eye for decorating (ha!) - it looked like total cack.
I'm talking, hey, who rubbed the nappy up on your wall??' kind of cack colour. So disgusting, that I wondered what the heck I could possibly have been thinking. AND to make matters worse, I teamed this godawful colour with a greeny grey that screamed at it just as loud as the screaming in my head.
Ha!
So after a while, Tony came to see what I was up to. He just looked at it and said 'so, we have to find a new colour.'
Thank GOD!!!
So in the end, I trawled the internet and found this NZ company called Resene that makes really pretty exterior colours and two sample pots later we're ready to go. It's not going to set the world on fire - but it's pretty, and i'm happy.
We've got our scaffold (which I'd like to throw our mattress to the top of and sleep on, looks like fun), and Tony has put in some mammoth effort scraping the entire exterior, so there are paint flakes covering the ground.In other news, I had my first experience with a high pressure cleaner yesterday when I cleaned all the weather boards. And in another one of those 'who knew' moments, it turns out that what i thought was exhaust fumes covering the house is actually a lovely black MOULD.
Attractive. Needless to say, I blasted the crap out of it.
Tony then saw how much fun it all was, and blasted the BBQ area which now looks as good as new. We are exceptionally talented at blasting stuff.
Wednesday, April 2, 2008
Day 24 - in which we discover the basket of too-hardness
It should probably come as no surprise that we've been finding it hard to pin tradesmen down.
They either:
a) can't quote because they're too busy,
b) don't show up to quote
c) show up and then don't send us the quote,
d) show up to quote but then never show up again
e) have a three month wait period
....ad neuseum. I'm sure you either get the idea, or have experienced it yourself.
But Tony took out the cat herding honors today by booking a tiler AND a plumber AND a floor sander. He is up for some big treats like a back rub or something for his stellar effort. I don't deal well with tradesmen (a fact he refuses to believe). Today he asked me to call one. Being the good and dutiful wife I am (lol) I complied, only for the whole debacle to end with me screeching that it might be all very well and good for HIM (the tradie) to go without a shower, but I SMELL and need to have one, so could he PLEASE tell me when he is coming. It was probably pure embarrassment that caused him to give me the date.
We were going to do the floor sanding ourselves, but after a few days of (Tony) pulling up carpet only to find foam stuck to the floorboards, only to lift that to find CARPET GLUE underneath that, we bow to the fact that IT'S TOO FREAKING HARD and we'd spend two weeks just getting that glue off when a professional will probably do it in two days. In line with the 'each room is a different colour' debacle, each room has a different flooring problem. Some have glue, some mold (ick!) some lift up perfectly. Like these three rooms:
There are times when the money is just well spent. And I'm sure this is one of them. Otherwise, we'll be here so long that I'll have to sign up for the dole to get some money because that seems to be the job of choice down here. That might sound narky, but I assure you, I am merely conveying the truth of the job situation down here. On the news the other night, tassie had the lowest participation in the job force in Australia. Huh??
They either:
a) can't quote because they're too busy,
b) don't show up to quote
c) show up and then don't send us the quote,
d) show up to quote but then never show up again
e) have a three month wait period
....ad neuseum. I'm sure you either get the idea, or have experienced it yourself.
But Tony took out the cat herding honors today by booking a tiler AND a plumber AND a floor sander. He is up for some big treats like a back rub or something for his stellar effort. I don't deal well with tradesmen (a fact he refuses to believe). Today he asked me to call one. Being the good and dutiful wife I am (lol) I complied, only for the whole debacle to end with me screeching that it might be all very well and good for HIM (the tradie) to go without a shower, but I SMELL and need to have one, so could he PLEASE tell me when he is coming. It was probably pure embarrassment that caused him to give me the date.
We were going to do the floor sanding ourselves, but after a few days of (Tony) pulling up carpet only to find foam stuck to the floorboards, only to lift that to find CARPET GLUE underneath that, we bow to the fact that IT'S TOO FREAKING HARD and we'd spend two weeks just getting that glue off when a professional will probably do it in two days. In line with the 'each room is a different colour' debacle, each room has a different flooring problem. Some have glue, some mold (ick!) some lift up perfectly. Like these three rooms:
There are times when the money is just well spent. And I'm sure this is one of them. Otherwise, we'll be here so long that I'll have to sign up for the dole to get some money because that seems to be the job of choice down here. That might sound narky, but I assure you, I am merely conveying the truth of the job situation down here. On the news the other night, tassie had the lowest participation in the job force in Australia. Huh??
Friday, March 28, 2008
Day 18 - Going for Gold
BRUCE: Welcome viewers, to the 2008 World Paintsport Championships. I’m Bruce McAveney, and let me say, you’re in for a treat tonight. Ron, you’re a painting expert, tell us about the main event, the Women’s 8 Hour painting marathon, and Australia’s hopes tonight. RON: There's a fair bit of bravado going on there, but let's watch the girl herself in action. There she is now, with her hallmark cupcake showercap and safety glasses, making her way to the starting gate with her extender pole and edge cutter. And they're off!!
BRUCE: My but look at that style Ron. You must be a little envious that so much painting skill comes in such a short, fat package.
RON (nods): Yep. I knew when she walked into my store she was trouble. Asking for the undercoat to be tinted, quizzing my about the best method of removing the always troublesome Dulux Suede. You notice the sheer reach she has on that ladder. Many have told her not to overextend herself, that she'll fall off the ladder, that she'll injure herself. But she's proving them all wrong tonight.
BRUCE: She's cutting in now, then? I don't think I've ever seen that particular method.
RON: She calls it 'feathering'.
BRUCE: Speeeeccial. She's got such a light, fast touch. Really it's something you'd expect to see on an oil painter.
RON: Exactly, Bruce. She incorporates elements from across the arts, and that's what makes her so great. Feathering from oil painting, lunges from ballet, and she's even been known to punt kick empty paint tins across the room when things don't go her way.
BRUCE: Well things seem to be going her way tonight. She's way ahead of the field and it looks like it's going to be GOLD GOLD GOLD for Australia tonight. What's she doing now?
RON: That's her patented rollering method. It's known within the industry as the 'Slapper'. Look at the speed, strength and ability she's displaying. I'd be hard pressed to find a tradie who could do a better job.
BRUCE: In fact, that's the reason she has this high-flying ability, isn't it? The tradies let her down time and time again. Leaving drip marks, flaking paint and charging her a fortune.
RON: She couldn't take them ripping her off for a second more. And the day she picked up a paint brush was the day Australia gained it's best female marathon painter. This girl can go for hours on end without a toilet break. All she requires is a few squares of chocolate and the occasional swig of vodka cruiser.
BRUCE: Well I'll shout her a drink tonight if she wins.
RON: She's already won, Bruce, she's finally painted out that bloody Dulux Suede Effects.
GONE!!!!!
Tony thinks I've been sniffing too much paint. I must defer to his superior knowledge and sign off so he can watch Brisbane v Collingwood.
Tuesday, March 25, 2008
Day 16 - in which we travel twenty minutes to a place five minutes from home
We just don't seem to comprehend how small Launceston is and how nowhere is far from anywhere. Today, for example, after studying the street directory, we traveled over twenty minutes to get to Plaster Perfection. I mean, it was worth the drive through all the
curvy-sick-inducing roads (plus a stop at a servo when we got lost) because they manufacture the most exquisite ceiling roses. And in the end we got what we were looking for:
I'm always surprised they're so cheap. I mean $50 for something that adds so much character? What a bargain. We currently have no ceiling roses in our house for the same reason that the plaster work in the house is so excellent -- all the old plaster was ripped out and replaced sometime in the late '80s.
So then, ceiling roses carefully packed into the car, we trundle home. There's a massive green warehouse on the hillside about a kilometre away, and I say to Tony with a giggle 'hey, wouldn't it be funny if that was Bunnings?' because Bunnings is like about five minutes from our place using the link freeway.
'No way can it be Bunnings," he replied.
It was Bunnings. I laughed.
He didn't laugh because the poor thing is in agony today. It all happened last night at 8.25pm when he realised that he had not left himself enough time to finish the hall ceiling without missing the start of Gordon Ramsey's Kitchen Nightmares.
Now, those of you that know Tony know he could no sooner miss that show than overcook a steak. So even though we'd been painting for five hours, he belted through it, only to wake up this morning with a neck shaped like a corkscrew. I kept wondering why he wouldn't look at me when I spoke to him, then realised it was hurting him too much to turn his neck :-(
I swear, you can actually FEEL where it's out of whack. He has an appointment with the chiropractor tomorrow to adjust it. I'll keep you posted.
In other news, in an attempt to give said husband an uninterrupted afternoon nap with his sore neck (that's my story and I'm sticking to it) I went out op-shopping and struck GOLD.
Two, count them TWO first edition Georgette Heyer's of the like you seldom find in Melbourne.
We also discovered that when the weather bureau forecasts 'showers' for Launceston, it means 'freaking-downpour-that-you-can't-run-to-your-car in-without-getting-soaked'. It's been raining all day here today and all we wish is that Melbourne was getting it instead. Of course I left my car window open a crack last night and had to sit on wet seat for that twenty minute drive. Wet bum!!
Also, kitty's name is Pushka, seen here this morning jumping onto my lap for a pat while I did my morning emails. Good kitty!!
curvy-sick-inducing roads (plus a stop at a servo when we got lost) because they manufacture the most exquisite ceiling roses. And in the end we got what we were looking for:I'm always surprised they're so cheap. I mean $50 for something that adds so much character? What a bargain. We currently have no ceiling roses in our house for the same reason that the plaster work in the house is so excellent -- all the old plaster was ripped out and replaced sometime in the late '80s.
So then, ceiling roses carefully packed into the car, we trundle home. There's a massive green warehouse on the hillside about a kilometre away, and I say to Tony with a giggle 'hey, wouldn't it be funny if that was Bunnings?' because Bunnings is like about five minutes from our place using the link freeway.
'No way can it be Bunnings," he replied.
It was Bunnings. I laughed.
He didn't laugh because the poor thing is in agony today. It all happened last night at 8.25pm when he realised that he had not left himself enough time to finish the hall ceiling without missing the start of Gordon Ramsey's Kitchen Nightmares.
Now, those of you that know Tony know he could no sooner miss that show than overcook a steak. So even though we'd been painting for five hours, he belted through it, only to wake up this morning with a neck shaped like a corkscrew. I kept wondering why he wouldn't look at me when I spoke to him, then realised it was hurting him too much to turn his neck :-(
I swear, you can actually FEEL where it's out of whack. He has an appointment with the chiropractor tomorrow to adjust it. I'll keep you posted.
In other news, in an attempt to give said husband an uninterrupted afternoon nap with his sore neck (that's my story and I'm sticking to it) I went out op-shopping and struck GOLD.
Two, count them TWO first edition Georgette Heyer's of the like you seldom find in Melbourne.
We also discovered that when the weather bureau forecasts 'showers' for Launceston, it means 'freaking-downpour-that-you-can't-run-to-your-car in-without-getting-soaked'. It's been raining all day here today and all we wish is that Melbourne was getting it instead. Of course I left my car window open a crack last night and had to sit on wet seat for that twenty minute drive. Wet bum!!
Also, kitty's name is Pushka, seen here this morning jumping onto my lap for a pat while I did my morning emails. Good kitty!!
Subscribe to:
Comments (Atom)
