Monday, June 04, 2018

Me and him and the tip

I've been trying to write a blog post for an hour. 

This morning there were ten items on my to-do list and I was trying to decide which to tackle first when Dave appeared at the kitchen window and waved his arm about in a table tennis movement. The table has been out in the garden for over a week and so far we've managed one game, so I decided to seize the moment and play.

Then I came into my study and shut the door and had just begun to write when he knocked on the window and frightened the life out of me and said "Can you tell me exactly what you want me to take to the tip?" which is a request that could not be ignored. I've been wanting him to go to the tip for over a year.

You know about his shed, don't you? I wanted to take a photo to illustrate, but it's been embargoed. Suffice to say his shed is so rammed full of 'stuff' that he often has to work outside it. And this 'stuff' leaks out onto the patio area in front of it, and bits of rammel get left there when the job is finished and the tools have been put away and the man who works in the garden is in the kitchen eating his yoghurt. And said rammel (which includes jam jars of unlabelled noxious liquids) stays outside the shed for months and months reducing that part of the garden to an unsightly, distasteful mess. And I can't clear it away because if I do, I am bound to throw away something that would have "come in useful later." 

So...when he appears at the study window saying "Can you tell me exactly what you want me to take to the tip?" it takes precedence over everything - even a literary agent emailing a response to my novel. Yes. Even that. Pretty extreme.

Well I've given him a list of what to take, and now I'm going to do some writing. Then I'll tackle the rest of the list. 

Aarrgghh! another question - "Would you like me to take all the green stuff that won't fit in the recycling bin?"

p.s. Blogger has not yet fixed the broken comments section. I'm sorry.

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