Sunday was not a fun day. It was cold, wet and, well, another adjective escapes me. It began dark and cold and remained mostly so: as a consequence of last Tuesday's work, the electricity went gone haywire. It was day 3 in 5, that was full of electrickery.
That all meant that even my slow cooker wasn't "allowed". Thank heavens I have a full gas stove, so I graduated my slow cooked supper to the oven. I spent the day on my sofa, doing my Madame Defarge impersonation, knitting for a friend.
That slow roasted lamb neck with a red wine sauce (and a glass) was (is) a winner (I have another 3 meals).
It was, however, punctuated by fur flying - literally - upstairs. Because of said alterations, all the inhabitants of The Sandbag House, especially the felines have lost at least some of their comfort zones (and in my case, I am losing my sanity and my sense of humour is taking a knock). The Princess has found a warm spot who knows where, but comes home daily and then swans off. The males, however, are home bodies who don't like each other. Gandalf is aggressively territorial, and even more so since Mr Richard Parker has graduated from under a chair to my bed.
Gandy goes for Mr P: last night, fur literally flew, I had to take steps to separate them. Gandalf then sulked on my lap on the couch. He is still there - on the couch. Mr P ensconced himself on the bed. He is still there and now on me...
Today, first light (almost) I my friend, the electrician arrived, as did the other workers; they had to lift some of the floor laid last week.
By the end of the day, the DB board was looking neater even without the earth leakage switch which he's taken away to test.
As I write, the next phase is beginning to happen: stairs part 1. And later, the window should arrive and which will light up the void.
In the meantime, I have lights and hot water. Bliss!
Until next time
Post script
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