I am bored.
I’ve not left the house in four days, and you would think that would give me more time to write but I’m sat here staring at my laptop and my brain is pretty much empty. I am so bored.
Why haven’t I left the house, I hear you ask?
Because on Saturday I took my daughter to a St Patrick’s Day party and, on our way home (which happened to be in the wrong direction), whilst skipping down the road with her attempting to Irish Dance, which evidently I cannot do, I fell over and totally fucked my ankle.
Swollen to three times its original size, and impossible to walk on type fucked my ankle.
I had to be pretty much carried home by my five year old daughter, who I’ve come to realise is definitely the more responsible of the two of us.
Actually, fairly amusing story…
The next day, I WhatsApped my friend who had been there the night before to tell her of my woe and what a complete knobhead I was.
Yes, that’s two fully grown women, with their child(ren), falling over and putting themselves out of action (and the school run) for the best part of a week.
What are the chances?
To be honest it did make me laugh, and I needed that – it was (and still is!) bloody painful and really sodding inconvenient. We won’t be allowed out together again any time soon though.
Doug has had to do the school drop off, and a friend has been picking my daughter up from school while I sit on the sofa with a bag of frozen avocados on my ankle. We’re not weirdly middle class, we’re just out of peas and mid-kitchen renovation so I’m not buying any more freezer food as I can’t cook it.
Ah, the kitchen renovation.
What fun it is turning out to be.
Our builders are great – I have to say that in case they read this of course – but the process is less than glorious, and as we all predicted because this house is bloody ridiculous and nothing is simple, they’re coming up against new things every day.
From the idiots that originally built a wonky kitchen with leaning walls, to the morons who plumbed it who I suspect might have been on work experience and/or blind, to the kitchen designer who didn’t measure properly so ordered units that would overlap the doorway and planned in a shit load of dead space, nothing about it is currently sparking joy.
We never expected it to be entirely straightforward but having been incapacitated and unable to so much as run the hoover round I just want it done now. Done and dusted (literally). There’s dust and clutter on every surface.
I’m totally over living without a kitchen now.
My smallest has now decided he definitely won’t eat anything but spaghetti bolognese (although he doesn’t really like the bolognese…just the spaghetti).
Sadly for him, spaghetti is pretty difficult to cook when all you have is a halogen oven and a microwave, can’t walk and no work surface at all. So far this week he’s refused to eat chicken nuggets, jacket potato and even pizza. What kind of kid refuses pizza for god’s sake? I can’t wait for my new kitchen to be ready, so I can spend hours in it preparing wholesome, nutritious meals that he won’t eat.
As for Doug and I, we’ve basically lived on pizza and takeaway all week, and having averaged 430 steps a day since Saturday it’s fair to say that I will be giving tomorrow’s weigh-in a bit of a swerve. I wouldn’t even make it up the stairs anyway.
Fingers crossed I’m fighting fit again soon. Dickhead.
You may also like:
- How to prepare for a kitchen renovation in ten easy steps
- How to survive weeks without a kitchen as a family
- Dreaming of a new kitchen in 2019: This is what I want…
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