Deadeye
Established Member
I already shared with you my brush with insects when bringing a honeymoon gift home from the far East.
It's a grey Thursday, so if laughing slightly condescendingly at someone less able than yourself will warm the cockles of your heart a little, read on.
It was a grey Thursday one November a few years ago. The Brains (who, you understand, is also The Power, The Money and The other half) had decided that the study floor was cold. It was stripped boards, sanded badly so they occasionally snagged your socks, with the usual knot holes and gaps between.
In truth it was a bit draughty, so I suggested carpet. The Infallible (who is also the Brains) said, no, let's fill the gaps. So I tried to caulk the gaps, with mixed success - anyway, The Chilly said this wasn't enough and insulation beneath was needed.
So I mutter and un-caulk the floor and lift the boards and mutter some more and cut and fix Celotex. It takes all weekend. And then I refix the floor, muttering, and wonder why things never fit as well when you reattach them.
Then I go to the living room to announce my triumph to The Judge. As she got up to come and inspect we heard the cat in the dining room. Now, the dining room door was shut and the cat is not allowed in there because he views the only decent curtains we have as a climbing frame. So I opened the door to chase him out... except he wasn't in there. Then we heard him again... in the living room...
...under the floorboards.
Little turnip had gone exploring while I had lunch and wandered around under the house until I'd relaid the floor.
By now I'm all for leaving Little turnip (the cat; not to be confused with our son) where he is and just buying air-freshener as required. However, The Compassionate says that's not going to happen. So I do more muttering and pull up a chunk of floor. However, Little turnip is also known as Stupid Cat for a reason, and can't find his way out.
So finally, I make the hole bigger, squeeze down and squirm along the earth under the floor until Stupid Cat runs across my face and out to daylight.
I reverse squirm, reverse squeeze, mutter some more, replace the floor and emerge covered in cobwebs and dirt to find Little turnip being comforted on the sofa, from where I receive instructions to shower and then hoover.
DIY isn't like you see it on YouTube videos.
Come on - cheer me up with yours.
It's a grey Thursday, so if laughing slightly condescendingly at someone less able than yourself will warm the cockles of your heart a little, read on.
It was a grey Thursday one November a few years ago. The Brains (who, you understand, is also The Power, The Money and The other half) had decided that the study floor was cold. It was stripped boards, sanded badly so they occasionally snagged your socks, with the usual knot holes and gaps between.
In truth it was a bit draughty, so I suggested carpet. The Infallible (who is also the Brains) said, no, let's fill the gaps. So I tried to caulk the gaps, with mixed success - anyway, The Chilly said this wasn't enough and insulation beneath was needed.
So I mutter and un-caulk the floor and lift the boards and mutter some more and cut and fix Celotex. It takes all weekend. And then I refix the floor, muttering, and wonder why things never fit as well when you reattach them.
Then I go to the living room to announce my triumph to The Judge. As she got up to come and inspect we heard the cat in the dining room. Now, the dining room door was shut and the cat is not allowed in there because he views the only decent curtains we have as a climbing frame. So I opened the door to chase him out... except he wasn't in there. Then we heard him again... in the living room...
...under the floorboards.
Little turnip had gone exploring while I had lunch and wandered around under the house until I'd relaid the floor.
By now I'm all for leaving Little turnip (the cat; not to be confused with our son) where he is and just buying air-freshener as required. However, The Compassionate says that's not going to happen. So I do more muttering and pull up a chunk of floor. However, Little turnip is also known as Stupid Cat for a reason, and can't find his way out.
So finally, I make the hole bigger, squeeze down and squirm along the earth under the floor until Stupid Cat runs across my face and out to daylight.
I reverse squirm, reverse squeeze, mutter some more, replace the floor and emerge covered in cobwebs and dirt to find Little turnip being comforted on the sofa, from where I receive instructions to shower and then hoover.
DIY isn't like you see it on YouTube videos.
Come on - cheer me up with yours.