So we recently took up the opportunity to buy the house directly next door to us. No one has lived in it for 20 years. Opening the door feels like opening a time capsule. The decor, the furniture, everything is so so old. It needs a lot of work; the whole thing is a mess. The roof needs fixing. The central heating needs updating. The God damn bath tub is made out of cast iron. And the garden is basically a network of homocidal stinging nettles.
This week we have focused on central heating. The way it was originally set up is actually illegal now because it is so inefficient. They didn’t even separate the supply from the return which is plumbing 101. Anyway this entire week I have been dashing from one house to the next fetching tools and keeping my poor dad hydrated and engergised. This means opening and closing the shoddy front door several times a day. This door is so dodgy and awkward that you have to kick it (hard) in just the right place or it won’t open. This evening however the door threw a strop and didn’t budge even after we nearly broke our legs smashing it. We were essentially locked out of our house.
What to do?
It’s pitch black outside but we need to get back in. We got a ladder and climbed onto the kitchen extension roof and walked across to next door. From here we had access to the bathroom window. But of course it was too small for my dad to get through.
Guess who had to pull her sorry arse ungracefully through this damn window in pitch darkness and land on friggin floorboard with nails poking out.
That’s right, me.
My butt hurts.