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It’s nice to be home among my familiar things, but I’ve brought back a nasty cold with me. I’m keeping topped up with Berocca to try and stave off the worst, and spent last night making big vats of soup. So much of the stuff, in fact, that there’s not enough room in the freezer in the house to put it all in, so it’s had to be bagged and frozen in the garage.

Things are a bit of a mess, too. When we got back I found another arsey note from the management company had been poked through my letterbox over at the flat. Seems they’ve chosen this week to paint the window frames and are insisting that all the windows be left open. Helpfully they have pointed out that this ‘probably’ invalidates your insurance policy, but that if you don’t do it they’ll charge you for the damage caused by them having to paint them all shut.

So, no offer to take care of your key for you while you’re out at work and make sure your flat is secure by opening and then reclosing the windows.

Anyhow, it means I’ve moved the last few worthwhile bits out of there, and they are sitting scattered around me as I type, which is very offputting. I’m turning my back on them in the hope they’ll unpack themselves and let me off the hook, but I suspect they’ll still be there in the morning.

This entry was posted on Tuesday, November 9th, 2004 at 11:58 pm and is filed under Journal. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.