When I woke this morning and staggered down for coffee (the second coffee, at 08:00, not the first one at 04:15) the light seemed unduly bright. Couldn’t be sunshine–the sun doesn’t peek into the valley now until quite a lot later. No, it was light from the sky, shining through the uncovered living-room window and reflecting from the shiny floor.
“Yikes,” I said. “That floor of yours is bright.”
“Not too sure about it.”
“Why’s that?”
“The varnish hasn’t gone hard.”
“It’s less that 24 hours old. Give it a chance.”
“Grrrr.”
~~+~~
OK. Where's my furniture, then?
~~+~~
The “Grrrrs” went on throughout the day, climaxing just after noon into a full-scale damning of paint-makers’ eyes and stamping of feet. I did the “Give it a chance” act again, saying I was sure it’d be alright. It will be, too, because now in the early evening, Graham’s saying less damning things about it and has trodden on it for the first time to hang the new curtains ready for shortening. You’ll not believe the new curtains, I tell you, but I’m not allowed to photograph them until they’ve been shortened, pressed, and hung properly. Tomorrow, perhaps, or the day after. And then, the furniture and we shall be able to get down to setting up for Christmas.
Dolly of course was completely un-fazed by it all. She didn’t wake until mid-morning, stomped downstairs and on into the living room where she sat blinking, wondering why Graham was screaming at her. She didn’t stick to the floor, though, and came wandering out in search of breakfast, all innocent-like. Graham stopped screaming–no harm done, it seems–and replaced the board in front of the open doorway to prevent a repeat. I stifled my giggles and set to the task of giving Dolly a good morning hug and a bowl full of lovely moist tuna flakes and another of crispy-crunchy biscuit.
And so the day went.
