After yesterday’s oh, so fabulous morning, from which I still carry a small headache and even smaller, indiscernible bump on the head (damit! It hurt! Why is there nothing to show for it?) the day just got more crazy.
I hung around the house, assured that the fridge we had purchased would be delivered “on Tuesday” and we would receive a phone call in the morning to give an ETA, and a phone call half an hour before the delivery truck, with my much awaited item, was estimated to show up.
Initially told “after lunch” I did contemplate having a shower, fairly sure they’d arrive just as I got out and was dripping wet and forced to answer the door in a towel. It’s not like that hasn’t happened before. I thought a shower may just ensure their appearance.
A quick phone call to Grumpy Pants at around 2.00p.m. to see if he’d heard anything – although he did tell me he’d ring as soon as he did – and to coordinate the afternoon’s Collect Children From School activities to ensure no child was left neglected. Again.
That sorted, I schedule the last hour before I have to leave to collect children, only to receive a phone call from Grumpy, fifteen minutes before I need to leave to get kids, stating they would “be there in half an hour with fridge”.
Inevitably, their scheduled arrival fell exactly at the final school bell time and more coordinating and juggling was required.
They tell me they don’t think they can get the fridge through the door.
Fucking make it! I said, inside my head.
Apparently, I was nice and they gave it a damned good go, getting it through the front door with barely a millimetre to spare. Getting it through a second door, however, was impossible, and I entertained the idea of just leaving it in the hall, just so I had a working, useable, relatively well located fridge.
Half our house being somewhat open plan, I suggested a slightly roundabout route. This route, however, was a clutter – although Monkey Boy would insist it a “carefully constructed” –