If I were a rabbit with a pocket watch in my waistcoat, I might look at the watch and say "Oh, dear! Oh, dear!"
I've been preparing to have my house painted (inside), because the ceiling is too high for me to manage by myself. I have spent most of the week cleaning off surfaces, and quasi packing, in order to facilitate the painter (so he can get at the walls without having to spend too much time moving things). My house is now a different kind of mess than it ordinarily is, and my painter's mom is in the hospital. My ungenerous side is thinking he's blowing me off, and about to rip me off. My better inclinations are hoping that his mom is OK, and of course an illness in the family supersedes wall paint. So, I'm uncomfortable, and trying to arrange my schedule to be flexible enough to be here if/when he comes, and to have plan B's, because I don't want to waste time. I don't think I'm being altogether successful. Oh, dear! Oh, dear!
posted by the other Joan @ 8:26 AM
1 Comments:
How crummy is that! Breathe--the universe probably isn't against--yet. Let me know how it goes.
Post a Comment
<< Home