If you are contemplating a room change, my advice is DON'T.
Groan. Do you remember how I described my kind of cleaning the house? Where I start one thing, see something lying about, so stop. Move that thing, and then discover something in the place it is supposed to be and sort that then forget the first thing???? Okay, I know what I mean. Magnify that a zillion times and you will have an accurate picture of my house aka the Tip.
Yesterday, I gave all the pine wood in the new studio an undercoat of white paint. To make it look bigger. Climbing past and over the piano as I slapped the paint on. I am also doing the deck - underneath, to reflect more light on the darker area. I will do the railings at the top when I finally clear the steps, which are shelves right now. It will look good. In 2021. If I get there. And I cleared a path for the piano to be moved on Saturday, when the big strong men come to shift it for me, while I am being weak and feeble. Making tea.
Today was the Arrival of the New Fridge. What joy! What excitement! I was actually taking Mum to the dentist when it arrived, but Simon, father of the babes, came to wait for it while we were out. The men were groaning under the weight of the old one as I arrived, and then we discovered that the gap in the units was a little tight. I was not going to be thwarted at this stage, so I said....shift it a sec, and climbed into the gap, and kicked the cupboard, dusted down my hands, and said, try now. They got it in. The cupboards could have exploded out on each side, and I would not have batted an eyelid. That fridge was going where it was supposed to go.
Anyway, it is on, and great. It works. I am happy.
Then I went to Ikea, with my mother, who is 82. To get the bookcases for the studio. Do not ask. Try though she might, 82 year old mothers are not designed to try to help lift flatpack furniture which weighs more than a mid sized elephant. I heaved and shoved and completely lost the plot, but finally got it onto the trolley. (Just picture a middle-aged woman, with hair falling out of the slide pinning it back, glasses falling off the nose, re-faced, dripping with sweat, highly irritated and not a trace of elegance or serenity. Bag tossed on the floor, and foot anchoring the trolley while twisting sideways to heave. ) Thankfully, a charming gentleman (unlike the assistants who were mysteriously nowhere to be seen) helped me load them into the car, and we trundled home, where I unpacked the boxes in the car, and brought the bits in one by one, and deposited them on the floor. In the centre of the lounge.
And then, instead of finishing the painting and sorting, I constructed them. I now have 2 enormous bookcases lying on their side in the middle of the lounge, and a small table too, and nowhere to put them until the piano is moved, and the piano will have to go over/through/past them to get to where it is supposed to be. On their side, they do make very handy, if very large, coffee tables, and watching TV is somewhat of a challenge over the top. I never learn.
And the place where the piano is supposed to go is now completley hidden by the piles of everything that was lying about the place because..." oh my word, we can't let the delivery men think that we live in a mess". So that has to be moved back to the lounge, where the piano will be passing through and where the 2 ginormous bookcases now rest in splendour. Sigh. Logistics. I should be able to manage this better.
So here I sit, because I am happy to be a source of great amusement to the world at large, and I can put off getting started back at the beginning and actually sorting the first thing on the list.
Maybe I will just go to bed instead.