Biting the dust

Well, I think I’ve been very good about this whole redoing the kitchen business. I’ve only moaned about it every 2 minutes for the past five weeks. Well, every¬†30¬†seconds some days. But there are limits, even to my infinitesimal stores of patience. Today, the builders are taking down the kitchen ceiling, which involves a vast amount of hammering and, more importantly, unfeasibly large amounts of dust. I seriously didn’t know there was this much dust in the world. It’s like every single particle has had some sort of summons and arrived, bang on time, in a great whirlwind in the basement. And each particle has invited all its chums on Facebook. And they’ve all invited every single particle they know, too …. well, you get the picture. It’s dusty.

In fact, you can see, smell, hear and taste the dust. I’m not even hungry, virtually unheard of now I’m eating for two – me and my perimenopausal hormone imbalance. I suppose I should be grateful for that small mercy. But obviously, I’m not. We’re actually going away for a few days, until the dust, er, settles. See you soon and have a lovely holiday too.

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