Why, someone pray tell me, why did I imagine for one moment that I would be able to sew a pair of curtains for the spare room by hand? What was I thinking?
I think in my head, I had pleasing images of me sitting diligently in front of the tv in the evening, sewing away merrily like a good little housewife, needle weaving proficiently in and out and a benevolent smile upon my face. This image, I have since discovered, is very far removed from reality. The reality is, me sodding up the curtain right from the start by measuring it wrong. Then swearing a lot and throwing the material across the room. Then me pricking my finger about ten times a minute, resulting in severe bleeding and nasty little hard callousy patches that make me look like a warty old woman. Oh yes, and you can add to this, the curtains looking really really crap because of the lopsided and quite outrageously uneven stitching. Wicked.
And of course, lets not forget the real ironic punchline, that the material probably cost more than a ready made curtain anyway.
Someone tell me why I bothered? Please? WHY???
It has been a frustrating day all round thus far. Once again, we are having a 'D doesn't sleep' day. Which so far has involved me getting so desperate to get him nodded off, that I've had to resort to taking him out in the car. However, today, even the car didn't pay dividends. No, D resolutely remained awake, shrieking and chortling in the back of the car, while I drove doggedly onwards, literally feeling my own hair turn grey and the bags under my eyes get baggier.
Oh boy. Oh yes, and the additional little frustration that our building work is going to be held up, as the manufacturers of the bi-fold doors apparently have gone bust and we've had to reorder from another company. (I KNEW there was going to be some divine retribution for indulging in those doors...)
And it's raining, and I trudged into town earlier and got thoroughly soaked, and yes, once again, I was not wearing any form of rain protection, which meant that yes, once again, the residents of this town witnessed me stomping through puddles and muttering expletives very audibly whilst my trousers merrily soaked up the rainwater and my toes went black with mud. (I WAS wearing my flip flops, yes. I have a rule that I don't wear any other shoes until the end of September, so honestly, I had no choice.)
Oh I am in a BAD MOOD. I am in a STROP.
Now, I should probably rescue D from this appalling silly children's programme that I've plunked him in front of. Good bye.
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