Aaand we’re back! [I know there are at least two more Sports Night fans reading this].
It’s been a hectic few weeks in the life and times of Chrissy B. The Forbearing Husband had a looming and Very Important writing deadline, the kitchen had to be cleared in order for the floor to finally be finished and then it had to be reassembled again (blog post pending), and in the midst of all this chaos poor Little Quail had a really nasty bike accident.
She’s doing better now after a couple of nights in Auckland Hospital being patched up. Two nights during which she discovered that a hospital is about the worst place ever to get sleep, and that ‘quiet time’ between 1pm and 3pm on Ward 75 is anything but quiet. She is highly relieved to be back in her own bed to catch up on some zzz’s.
The Forbearing Husband has submitted, and now has a truly terrible cold*. Very likely induced by the bacterial perils of airline travel, combined with lung scarring polyurethane fumes and more than one all-night writing session. He is taking a short breather (well, as much as one can do through a very blocked nose), before cracking on with his next project, due on the 1st December. At least he won’t have to endure kitchen upheaval and an uncertain meal supply on the way to this deadline.
I’m still gradually getting the kitchen and laundry back into working order. Having your floor raised by 5mm creates a variety of ‘fun’ little DIY challenges. Doors, dishwasher enclosure, laundry tub and skirting boards all need to be adjusted accordingly before re-installation. I can only manage a little of this problem solving at a time before I have to get out into the garden or cuddle a pony to rest my brain. Sure do miss your clever solutions to tricky renovation tasks, DIY guy.
Big thanks to all who helped out during the recent craziness by: giving me a place to sleep during the unexpected jaunt to Auckland hospital; lending moral support while Little Quail was laid low; donating an electric jug for her to use upstairs in her flat when getting her downstairs was tricky (like her mum, Little Quail Must Have Tea!); helping Little Quail get to hospital appointments and get fed after I came home; and letting Forbearing Husband and I cook in your kitchen while we didn’t have one. You know who you are. x
* I wrote this post last week. Since then the Forbearing Husband has gifted me his cold. Just refer to our place as Plague Farmlet until further notice.