Tiles
My friend Jim is round tiling the kitchen. It is an epic process, judging by the numbers of buckets, mixers, bags of stuff that have appeared. I can grout, but tiling from scratch is beyond me.
Yesterday afternoon was spent in the garden inhaling noxious fumes as I treated the tiles with some evil chemical impregnator that stops them getting stained and makes them less porous. I used both garden tables to lay out the tiles to be treated, and then still had about a hundred more tiles to go, so had to transfer all the sticky chemical-covered tiles onto an old shower curtain on the bed, since that was the only largish-sized area to lay them all out apart from the floor. The floor was no good because Miff would more than likely walk all over them and then get it on her paws, lick her paws and poison herself, or else lie on them and get the tiles covered with fur and herself covered with aliphatic hydrocarbons.
Miff was banned from the bedroom whilst the tiles dried, she threw herself repeatedly at the door in a mood because it is her favourite place to sleep during the day.
Later J and I went to bed and found that despite using a protective cover, the duvet and pillows were sharp with the smell of the horrible chemical, but we were too tired to get out of bed and change the duvet cover. I fell asleep and dreamed of piles of tiles. Miff got onto the bed in the night and curled at my feet. This morning she smelled faintly of the chemical too. She doesn't seem to mind, but then she is a very messy cat who enjoys rolling in the dirt and making a mess and leaving filthy paw prints everywhere. In many ways she is more like a Labrador than a moggy.
I can't wait for the kitchen to be finished. The mess and the hassle is seriously starting to annoy me. Although Miff thinks it is all marvellous fun. God knows what she will do today, as Jim is mixing adhesive in a bucket with an electric drill mixer attachment, and Miff is a fan of wires, climbing in things and getting in the way...
I've locked her in the bedroom with a sock full of catnip to distract her.
Yesterday afternoon was spent in the garden inhaling noxious fumes as I treated the tiles with some evil chemical impregnator that stops them getting stained and makes them less porous. I used both garden tables to lay out the tiles to be treated, and then still had about a hundred more tiles to go, so had to transfer all the sticky chemical-covered tiles onto an old shower curtain on the bed, since that was the only largish-sized area to lay them all out apart from the floor. The floor was no good because Miff would more than likely walk all over them and then get it on her paws, lick her paws and poison herself, or else lie on them and get the tiles covered with fur and herself covered with aliphatic hydrocarbons.
Miff was banned from the bedroom whilst the tiles dried, she threw herself repeatedly at the door in a mood because it is her favourite place to sleep during the day.
Later J and I went to bed and found that despite using a protective cover, the duvet and pillows were sharp with the smell of the horrible chemical, but we were too tired to get out of bed and change the duvet cover. I fell asleep and dreamed of piles of tiles. Miff got onto the bed in the night and curled at my feet. This morning she smelled faintly of the chemical too. She doesn't seem to mind, but then she is a very messy cat who enjoys rolling in the dirt and making a mess and leaving filthy paw prints everywhere. In many ways she is more like a Labrador than a moggy.
I can't wait for the kitchen to be finished. The mess and the hassle is seriously starting to annoy me. Although Miff thinks it is all marvellous fun. God knows what she will do today, as Jim is mixing adhesive in a bucket with an electric drill mixer attachment, and Miff is a fan of wires, climbing in things and getting in the way...
I've locked her in the bedroom with a sock full of catnip to distract her.
Labels: the endless kitchen saga
posted by Rachel at 11:40 am
This too will pass. Repeat that to yourself lots and lots and one day you will walk into your kitchen and it will be finished. Mind you, our house still isn't finished after 4 years...
Fortunately I am being fed by my mates this afternoon, my friend is having a barbecue in Peckham at six, so I will be able to eat hot food and sit on chair that are not covered in buckets of foul-smelling goo.
I don't know how people cope with having builders in.
J is going to stay and look after Miff and work in the garden. He is resigned about the mess and sees it as an opportunity to eat pizza out of the box, one of his favourite activities that he enjoys doing when I am out of the house, along with playing Grand Theft Auto 4 and drinking Guinness out of the can.
Why do men seem to cope much better with mess and chaos in their living environment?
Because without our civilising influence they regress to being cavemen...?
I think so. There is certainly circumstantial evidence to support that point of view...
no comment ;)