Self Assembly

If you're trying to assemble IKEA furniture in the wee hours after one too many glasses of red and you discover that you don't own a hammer, take my advice and use the baked beans tin. Frankly, those tuna cans just aren't sturdy enough for the job - something about the density of the contents, I think. At least I now have some bookshelves again, even if I did have to have baked beans for breakfast.

Ginette and I are moved in and gradually getting ourselves organised, although it's been a bit difficult to fit in setting up around a bloody busy week. When I got in after work the other night I had to walk carefully around a neatly composed pile of dust, paper scraps and glitter in the middle of the living room floor. "We," said Miss P, "don't appear to own a dustpan." Nor, after a week's wrangle with Telstra, do we rent a phone line, but apart from that we're coping rather well. And we now have a hammer.

Emotionally it's been an odd one. File this under tired and wrung out - I was skulking around Paddington earlier in the week trying to find somewhere to park Erik the Red. As I pulled up with, I thought, just enough room to clear a 'No Parking' sign painted on the footpath, a lady popped her head out of a shop window.
"Err...I have to go out in a minute."
"Oh. That won't be enough room, then?"
"Afraid not."
"Sorry. I'll move."
A very civilised exchange, but when I got back into the car I burst into tears. Hmm. True, rejection is tough, but you've got to learn to draw the line somewhere! I think we might both have sniffed too much Spray and Wipe getting the kitchen together. Definitely time for a holiday.