The Mad Panic turns Madder

I was off work yesterday and I knew that it was coming because there was no way my immune system was going to make it through 2 1/2 weeks of exhaustion without packing in. Lying on our sofa limply starring at the piles of rubbish and half finishedness a great melancholy set in. I’m away for the next two weekends and then it’s Christmas – there is just no way it’ll be ready. No way. And I’d scaled back my expectations, which I never do. I love to have ridiculous ideals of how things will be and then feel all my dreams dashed at the last moment. It’s just how I operate. Not only have I gone against my own nature, what’s more, I’d only gone an bought the wrong sized cabinet, which Jules loved pointing out when he got home. You see, I have this VERY SMALL tendency to not think things through. It’s happened on the odd occasion. At one time Jules coined the phrase “Boyced it”, which would literally make me livid. No one wants huge failures to be their namesake. So anyway, I DID NOT Boyce this, I simply forgot to account for the skirting boards and at the time I was on my own in Ikea (let’s ignore the fact the measuring took place before this) wheeling two trolleys and chanting “I don’t need no man” like a true heroine.

Anyways, Jules is home on Sunday and his MOMENTOUS task is to not get too drunk at his friend’s wedding on Saturday so that he is capable of finishing staining the floors. You see, there is one huge difference between Jules and I; I like to get the job done as quickly as possible, Jules likes to get the job done properly. So, when I attempted to stain the floor it looked cack, so the mantle was passed over, much to his relief. This leaves me with finishing off painting the coving and wooden parts and boy do I hate painting with satin paint. It’s just soooooo sticky. Then the bathroom ceiling needs another coat (the third pot of paint I’ve bought because I might have miscalculated. I MIGHT have) and the woodwork in there needs another coat. After that it’s painting the spare room and unpacking ALL the boxes, which has led Jules to blame me, totally unfairly, for us having too much stuff and for me having a shopping problem. Need I remind him that one of the giant boxes is full of his shoes for his clown feet? Also, most of the boxes in there are books, some of my clothes because my chest of drawers is still in storage and things like curtain poles and curtains and un-built furniture. I mean, really.


This is where rats go to die and then I’ll find them after clearing it out and scream and cry and want to move.

Note the GIANT guitar – Jules’ and the GIANT golf bag. See, it’s not all me!

All that needs to be done by the 24th, including the picking up of all our items in storage, which we’ve realised we probably don’t need as we’ve lived without them for a year and haven’t noticed (except for my Mean Girls DVD, my chest of drawers and our cutlery and pots and pans), ANOTHER trip to Ikea to get foldy down chairs for Christmas and a iddy biddy sofa bed for his Mum to sleep on. And finally and most importantly I need to decorate for Christmas and I have the most crushing fear I won’t get the chance to do it in time. The best bit about decorations is having them in the lead up. But I shouldn’t complain, this weekend I’m getting an early birthday with my family and the weekend after Jules is taking me away, so, you know, I am getting totally spoilt. I should be more grateful but I’m not. I’m having a full blown Christmas hissy fit and I can’t even scream about it because my throat hurts.


I know, look at the horror I live in. Even my balloons are deflating – there’s no way they’re going to make it to my actual birthday.

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