In times of war and stress

Until about 8pm last night I was in the final throes of my plan to get the house ready for The Australians to move in on Thursday. The Boy is away AS USUAL (what, am I shouting? I'm not shouting) so it's just me and thankfully my Daddy who is coming round on Thursday morning to put some special tape on the radiator in the living room, to help me get the new curtain rail and curtains up in the living room, put the blind up in the kitchen, help me re-hang the door to their bedroom and take off my bedroom door, shave 3mm off it and put it back.
So last night, knowing that I would be spending Wednesday night cleaning the house (I clean 2-3 times a week, deal with it) and checking final details I had planned to treat myself to a night to myself. I wanted to get home from work by 6pm, pamper myself in the shower, smother myself in moisturiser, put on some fresh pyjamas and curl up on the sofa with a quick dinner, cake, a good movie and a Lush facepack. And do nothing. That was the key - no need to talk to anyone, do anything, just have one entire evening where I only have to think of myself.
I didn't get it. At 5:15 the email campaign I had spent 2 HOURS creating did not save thanks to the bag of shit system that we are thankfully moving away from soon. I got home at 8pm after starting the entire thing again. NOT a happy bunny.
No sooner had I got home, the Cricket Club which is arranging for The Australians to be our tenants alerted me to the fact that they are now coming a day early, on Wednesday. TONIGHT in other words. So last night I got out the hoover (which promptly broke) and cried, realising that I am not going to have the house prepared for them. I'm sure they won't care that one of them will have to help me put their door on, the house is as clean as it can be when you've swept the carpet and tried to pick up lint with a hand wrapped in sellotape but whilst it won't make a difference to them - it makes a difference to me.

This didn't work out the way it was supposed to and I am freaking out.



I wanted that night. I needed that night. Now I won't have any time alone for the next 6 months because when The Boy is away we will still have The Australians. I'm sure they're going to be lovely and we'll have fun and it will be nice to have company but whilst I am good at living with a boyfriend, I have never done the flatmates or housemates thing. The Boy's mother lived with us for a big chunk of last year and I learned quite a lot from that experience.

I want them to feel welcome, I love having houseguests but this is going to be strangely different - instead of me looking after a guest for the weekend, I'll be sharing the kitchen, bathroom, living room, washing machine... house with people who are also living there. People who consider it their space too. For 6 months.

So wish me luck. I've had a stressful few months preparing for them, I've fallen at the last hurdle but that's not my fault after all. I just want all of this stress to have been worth it.

I bought a dress for my brother's wedding by the way. Here it is on the dummy, and on me (please note I wasn't wearing the right bra - it will hang better with cleavage). Now I just need to find the right shoes. There are tons of gorgeous shoes in bright blues or contrasting primary colours that would look great, but I am thinking that I might go for silver shoes and clutch or cream. Then I can match my hat and wrap too. What do we think?








Ziggy played guitarrrrrraaaaarrrrraaaarrrrrr.


Title: Telling Lies by David Bowie

1 comments:

ditzy said...

love love love the dress xx