Wednesday, September 7, 2011
The Taste of Plaster Dust and the Weeny Egg... Again
So I decided to crack open that weeny egg and move on. It was a major disappointment. Nothing but white stuff. I was hoping for a perfectly formed weeny egg yolk that I could fry up and artfully place on a giant slice of toast before photographing and blogging it. But nope. Looked a lot like someone had snotted into the pan actually. So I decided to do without a photo. There have been too many mucusy hankies about our place lately so I couldn't bring myself to eat it either.
Golden Girl has continued in her broody way and remains cosy in her nesting box. She's so far missing out on the spring sunshine. My other chooks however are having a grand ole time escaping from their run to eat my veggies. Despite having free reign of the entire back end of the garden including under the trampoline they've managed to eat every skerrick of grass and understandably the veggie patches look much more interesting than their side of the fence. So I really should put some time into outdoor security but I've been completely preoccupied with indoor matters.
The plasterer finished on Friday and left a layer of plaster dust over every single surface of the house. There's dust in the sugar and in the pillows and on the plates and the taste of dust will not leave my tongue. I've been working myself ragged trying to clean everything and have turned into the crankiest mother around. But I'm almost done. Which is a relief because I organised a dinner party at my place tomorrow night and have nine women hoping to consume a dust free meal.
I've given up on plans to paint everything straight away. Choosing paint colours was doing my head in.
In fact this week everything was doing my head in. I had a bit of a melt down with the stress of it all. Things that normally don't bother me did. It felt like I was screaming and sooking every couple of hours or so. And because I was exhausted and there was dust everywhere and our pantry contents were emptied onto the lounge room floor and the pantry itself was plonked in the middle of the kitchen surrounded by plastic and big globs of errant plaster, we ate more take-away food than I remember ever eating. Which probably wasn't helping my mood.
But it's over now. So I'll move on.