Getting Plastered

Back to work, but luckily the builder’s son is doing a week’s work experience with him, so at least there is someone as incompetent as me on the job.

A very large skip was delivered early, so our first lesson was how to load it correctly. All flat stuff in first, then stack the edges with other, bigger flat stuff.

Finally, place all the rubble sacks on top. To finish off, all the gaps are plugged with baguette wrappers, coke cans and old Sun newspapers.  I just thought you chucked everything in, squished it down and hoped for the best.

On a break, I got chatting to the painter. Anyone else ever find when they mention MS, someone will always say, ‘ Oh, I knew someone with MS. Terrible it was. Just awful. Downhill like that (clicks fingers loudly).’ Oh, cheers mate. That’s supposed to make me feel better?

We moved on to the plastering. Quite possibly the most boring, tedious, soul-destroying job ever. All I have to do is follow the builder round and round the room, scooping out plaster for him. Yawn. Then clean out the buckets. Yawn. Then do it all again. Then we wait for it to dry, then go over it again and repeat five or six times.

Last job, pipe work. So boring I won’t even go into details, suffice to say it’s maths with bits of copper. Some jobs just drag. And I was freezing, even though I was wearing the woolly thermals my mum bought me. It was one of those days. Next time will be better as the kitchen units will be delivered and I can hopefully make myself more useful.

Mid-way through the day, The Teenager texted me to say his wrist was sore again (see Muddy Hell for details…). I texted back that I would bandage it up when he got home, and no, he couldn’t have a Domino’s pizza for dinner to make him feel better.

I got home tired, cold and sore. Maybe I will take up the builder’s idea that I start up his social media instead of helping fit kitchens? He wants to create a Twitter account for his business, so must start thinking of suitable, buildery-type tweets. Something like – Blimey, the price of bacon sarnies is shocking…….

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11 thoughts on “Getting Plastered

  1. Oh, I had a coworker who, once he learned I have MS, launched into a dreadful story about someone he knew who had MS and who ended up bedridden and miserable… Honestly! I had to interrupt him and ask him to shut the F*&% up (well, apart from the “F” part; that was what I was thinking). Okay, I didn’t actually ask him to shut up. Nor did I interrupt him. What *really* happened: I politely let him finish his abysmal tale, which he really seemed to be enjoying sharing with me, and then tactfully suggested that this wasn’t the best story to tell someone else who has MS. He was an ass.

    • stumbling in flats says:

      Hi there!
      Soooo glad it’s not just me. Saw him again today and he wanted to continue the story. Apparently him and his mates saved up for a scooter for that person with MS. Wasn’t that lovely? But, oh, she could hardly get out the house, but it was a nice gesture. Such a shame. In a right old state she was. Tragic, really. Then she died. Didn’t hardly get to use the scooter after all. (this went on my whole coffee break).
      I mean, really??

      • Ah, a delightful coffee break, sounds like! At the very least, these tactless people have given us amusing stories to share.

        How annoying about WordPress. I hope you get it sorted out; I enjoy *your* funny responses to my posts. (I think you managed one?)

        • stumbling in flats says:

          How did I manage just one???? Meh. I wrote such a funny comment and the damn WordPress wouldn’t accept my identity. Not the first time that’s happened, lol.
          p.s. back with the painter tomorrow – I await with baited breath about what he’ll come away with next…

    • stumbling in flats says:

      p.s I keep trying in vain to comment on your wickedly funny blog posts, but for some reason I can’t with WordPress. On my list of things to fix! x

      • p.s. have you been receiving email alerts when I post something new? Embarrassingly, the only other people I *know* who have signed up are my mom and sister, neither of who are computer wizards, so I am not entirely confident they followed all steps properly. (Sorry to post this as a Comment; I know it doesn’t count.)

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