and the carpet tiles in the cubbyhole have gone to the skip in preparation for the arrival of the joiner...
but considering there's been no phone call...it isn't look hopeful for this week and the man with the buckets of plaster seems to have disappeared off the planet. But instead of tearing my hair out and sitting in a corner with my thumb in my mouth...I'm a bit too old to have a toddler tantrum...don't you think...I've been doing what I always do in times of stress...getting my hands mucky making lots of Distress Oxide backgrounds for a marathon die-cutting session...
and then it's "nobody move...sneeze...make any sudden movements and definitely no Furry Boy tail-wagging" construction time...
I'm trying to keep myself busy and get as many DT and magazine projects nailed...trying to get ahead of the game before the errant tradesmen finally make an appearance and the cubbyhole is totally out of bounds.
And I'm still trying to come up with a solution for the wonky alarm clock otherwise known as The Furry Boy...
my adorable "butter wouldn't melt" pudding face hooligan has just kicked things up a notch and for the past two nights has been wide awake...bouncing on and off with the bed with that "come on Mum-it's time for breakfast" look on his face at...wait for it...4.00am...
and if he's thinking about scoring a hat-trick tonight...the gloves are off and one of us will be spending their nights in the garden shed and just for the record it won't be ME.
Hugs Kath xxx
