I did not get blown up by the boiler rising up against me in the night. For this, I am extremely grateful indeed.
I did not have to wait in all day for a boiler man. I am even more gratefuller -er.
I did ascertain that my husband failed to reset the hot water timings correctly however. I am trying to be grateful that this has given me the opportunity to grow as a woman and learn a lot about boilers.
I think he may have read this blog and thought twice before telling me about his oversight face time to face time as it were.
We communicated by text. It worked very well and I did not want to kill him, and it saved both of us from saying stupid, tired, inappropriate things – because we were too knackered to type them.
The problem is solved.
We have hot water coming out of our ears. Well, not really. That would be a worse problem.
My morning was spent, as well as fiddling with boilers, by going to the tip, and the bank, and the post office in rapid succession. Then my dad took me to the packaging warehouse, which may seem boring to you, but to those of us with a deep love of all things brown paper parcelly wrapped up with string, and tissue paper in every colour of the rainbow, it was all very fine, although the two gigantic bales of bubble wrap squatting morosely in the back seat on the way home, made it a very interesting journey which was punctuated by my squeaks as I seemed to do a great deal of turning right into traffic, and couldn’t see properly.
My one consolation was that if I was thrown backwards in the ensuing crash, the bubble wrap might act like some kind of air bag.
After I had ticked off all my chores I made my dad take me out to lunch at my new favourite, Salvador Deli where I ate my new favourite sandwich – half a ciabatta loaf oozing with buffalo mozzarella, slices of salami and gherkins. I was too full to eat dessert so we had cake to go.
Then we browsed about lots of wonderful charity shops and browsed about some more in the lovely furniture warehouse and I bought an Art Nouveau salad bowl and serving spoons to sell, but I don’t know if I can bring myself to do it yet. I might keep it for a couple of weeks and just stroke it gently for a bit first.
We picked Tilly up from school and went to granny’s house for tea where we all ate far too much pizza, which I wasn’t going to eat, but then ended up eating vast quantities, and cake, and it stood me in good stead for maths tuition, so all was well.
And what started out being a potentially disastrous day, and then morphed into a day of tasks, turned into a day when several rather lovely things happened and everything was redeemed, even though I have only just finished working, and I still have laundry to put out, and it is nearly one in the morning again.