Getting laid   2 comments

Also: riding.

Bank holiday! And you know what that means: busy!

First up – it barely being mid-day when I left here – was going riding. Just as we got to the field, it started raining, and looked pretty dark and dismal. There was debate whether we should or shouldn’t go out. It was decided: We’d risk the elephants. Genghis Khan would be proud (or maybe Hannibal).

The ride was pretty quiet and uneventful, just a short hack around the nearest village because of the weather, although it dried up whilst we were out. Wilf was very good for Jane; apparently he’s been a Fun Time of late, so she was happy with that. Sam was not at all enthusiastic for me, as it was his third time out in three days. He was also a bugger to catch (possibly if he’d just been caught easily and not done all the trotting round in circles before we’d even tacked them up he wouldn’t have been so tired).

Then it was home, and on with the major task of the day; laying the carpet. Underlaying is quick and easy, despite my father’s best efforts; he was trying to do his everything-to-the-micron fiddliness, so I grabbed the roll, rolled out an extra strip and started hacking and stapling away, so he had to keep up. I’m all for accuracy and care, but underlay is 1) never going to be seen; 2) squidgy and stretchy and a different shape after you cut it than before; and 3) going to be squashed at the edges by the carpet because it’s twice as thick as the grippers, so there’s no point*. You don’t need to be exact. You probably don’t need to be to the inch. Everything probably wound up within 5mm, and that’s more than good enough for anybody, I reckon.

So then it was time to lug the carpet out of the loft, and stick that down. That does require care and exactness, so I left Dad to it. We only had one set of tools, anyway.

After he’d done two walls it was nearly 6pm, and he decided it was time to go home and walk my sister’s dog. I think he’d be really upset if she ever actually decided to abduct him and look after him herself; the walks are not only exercise, but also dad’s social life. There’s almost a dog-walking club that wanders around the park.
Happily for him, my sister’s house is in a similar state to mine, progressing more slowly, and she’s owned it for two years longer, so he’s likely a dog-carer indefinitely.
That’s my aim for this house, actually: get it finished before my sister finishes hers.

Anyway, I was left by myself with a half-laid carpet. I don’t like things being half-done, especially when the end is so clearly in sight. I’d watched Dad. I read my book on male gender stereotypes. I thought: I can do this. What can possibly go wrong?

Well, I could cock it up and knacker hundreds of pounds’-worth of carpet, obviously.

But I didn’t. I finished the last two walls, and even the fiddly bits around the door. At one point I thought I’d gone a bit far with one cut, but I hadn’t, so that was OK. The ends of my fingers were sore. It was done. Hurrah!

It was also about half-past nine, so I was pretty hungry. Especially as I’d not eaten much after Sunday’s barbecue pig-out. So I held a celebratory feast of courgette and baked beans.

 
* Unlike the grippers, they’ve lots of points.

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2 responses to “Getting laid

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  1. Well I thought this was going to be about and getting laid! Disappointed! LOL

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