Sometimes I need a filter between my brain and my mouth.
This is not the way to get one.

Monday, 30 July 2012

"The Time Has Come", The Walrus said...

Not  "to talk of many things: Of shoes--and ships--and sealing-wax-- Of cabbages--and kings..."

But to discuss the fact that The Man and his brother made such strides towards the current renovation project in our home, over the weekend, I thought there must have been vodka in the drinking water.

It looks like this baby will actually have a room, and I'm no longer eyeing off the fan blades in the lounge room as a potential 'cot' because I won't have anywhere to put a real one.

I'll admit, it was a risk letting the two of them take on the demolition. The Man and his brother are terrifyingly accident prone. If something could possibly happen, it inevitably will. It's in their DNA.

I married the one in red...

In true family style, they proceeded to remove gyprock and other miscellaneous building materials from our home with a ladder that was too short, no shoes, no safety glasses, bare hands and with the electricity still running through the house while hammering and chiseling into the wall...that contains the central power board.

I suppose their main line of safety was that beer would not be consumed on the job.

Thank fuck.

Somehow, the only 'massive' injuries sustained were a chisel into the hand (brother) and near impalement with a section of wood that only amounted to massive bruising (The Man). I was informed that he truly has 'balls of steel' because that was what got in the way.

Bandaids and laughter appeared to be the remedy.

Very few nails were stepped on, and each had the courtesy of warning one another whenever they did so. Because, you know, removing them would have been sensible.


When pondering how to thank The Brother for all his hard work, it occured to me the best thank you gift would be a tetanus shot and offering to stitch up his hand. Or just get him home alive to his wife and their unborn child.

Happily, the construction of the new wall and relocation of the door frame will be done by someone else entirely. Although he is an army bud of The Brother, so safety standards could be questionable.

I'll just take Miss 3 to the park and pretend it's not happening.

But in the meantime, I have to try and appear knowledgeable while The Man talks to me about what the electrician will need to do, and data cables, and practical locations for power points and light switches and fan controls and how easy it will be to finish off the floor.

That's totally awesome, but in the meantime I'm more concerned about the gyprock being fixed in the adjoining wall, since the demolition wasn't *strictly* controlled and has now spread to Miss 3's bedroom too.

We are 15 weeks away from blast off in my uterus, and I feel like the space is 25 weeks away from completion. But I have every confidence it will be done in time.

Whether or not the brother's end up in the hospital ward next to me is something we'll have to wait and see...

Straight to Your Inbox, Baby

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