The first chapter starts way back in the mists of time, other wise known as last week when I popped into B & Q to pick up some colour charts to help me find the perfect colour for my bedroom wall.
I pinned all the charts onto the wall against my lovely sparkly ‘feature wall’ paper and eventually decided that the best colour was one called ‘bumble’. Why it was called bumble I can’t imagine. It didn’t look anything like a bee or honey, it was just a very pale champagne colour and it blended in with the wallpaper beautifully. Just perfect.
Boofuls and me picked up the paint along with a few brushes and various other bits and bobs as you do when you go into B & Q. You know how it is – go in for a screw and come out with a full load.
BEHAVE YOURSELVES!!!! Rude!
Boofuls was out last night so I started the onerous task of turning the coffee coloured walls in the bedroom to ‘bumble’. Why is it never straightforward? It became very obvious very quickly that turning a dark wall light was going to take more than one coat of crap B & Q own brand emulsion. Doncha just love doing a job twice, maybe even three times?
After a couple of hours I got fed up, cleaned the brushes and left it with the intention of picking it up again tonight.
Fast forward to this morning.
Remember the friend who dropped dead recently? It was his funeral this morning. Funerals. I just hate all the meaningless platitudes that people churn out at these events. Ask Winklepop about meaningless platitudes, she’s had a ton of ’em.
Boofuls, me Winklepop and bezzie all turned up to a packed crematorium. As funerals go it was perfectly fine. I’m sure he would have enjoyed all the attention and laughed his socks off at the tears. I can imagine him saying, “What are you crying about you big girls blouse? ”
After the funeral, still a bit upset, I went home and decided to get changed and crack on with some painting. I looked at last night’s handiwork and realised that the paint had dried with a peachy hue. Peachy? I don’t want bloody peachy, I want champagne!
I picked up the tin of paint and inspected the label to make sure I hadn’t picked up the wrong colour. Hmmmm, can’t read it in this light, I’ll take it to the window. The tin slipped out my hand slightly and I took a tighter hold of it, laughing to myself that it was a good job the lid was on tightly as that could have been a proper mess.
As I got to the window I tilted the tin again to get a better look. The lid flew off and most of the contents of a five litre tin of paint poured all over the windowsill, down the front and back of the radiator, all over my Dawn French book and all over my beautiful jade green carpet. OHHHHHH NOOOOOO!!!!
In my panic, and trying to protect the carpet, I grabbed my dressing gown and threw it down on the floor to try and catch the paint. What a bloody stupid thing to do. Now I have a ruined dressing gown and a ruined carpet.
Then I turned round to look for something else to limit the damage with and let out a howl as I saw a massive patch of paint on the floor behind me. WHAAAAT? That must have poured out when I first looked at the label but completely missed me and my clothes, sliding silently onto the floor like an emulsiony ninja carpet assassin. I stood there horrified.
At this point the dog has come upstairs to see what all the fuss was about. He was dancing round the huge patch of paint, threatening to walk through it and spread it right round the house on his great big clodhopping paws.
Now you know how you can never get a builder to turn up for love nor money? Well, bugger me, the builder turned up at exactly that moment, which is exactly when he was supposed to turn up. Unheard of. My brain was near to overload. I went downstairs to speak to him, instructing Douggie to follow me.
After a few brief words to the builder I went back into the house to realise that the dog had laid down in the paint puddle while I was distracted and the whole of one side of him was a crap B & Q peach colour.
Oh for Gawd’s sake!!!
A squirt of doggie shampoo and a quick hose down with the garden hose sorted out a very disgruntled dog. Disgruntled? I’ll fecking show you disgruntled!
At that point I decided I couldn’t cope any more and phoned Boofuls at work. “Guess what I’ve done?” If I’m honest I didn’t know how I expected him to react. Maybe I was expecting annoyance, anger or even disbelief but to be honest I wasn’t expecting mirth. That was the bit where all my strength disappeared and I finally dissolved into floods of tears. He talked to me for a minute or two and then told me, “You’ll have to go now, I can’t wait to tell Lashes.” He was still chuckling as he hung up.
I spent the rest of the afternoon scooping up paint and trying to get through to the insurance company. At one point I heard a noise behind me and discovered that Douggie the doggie had picked up and eaten one of my socks. One of the posh ones I wear with my posh trousers and my posh boots with the lovely folded leather and zip at the back. The ones I’d taken off and discarded in a heap on the bed after realising I needed to get some old clothes on for my massive clean up operation. He was tucking in to my posh sock with relish. I’m not sure I’ll get another wear out of it:
Luckily, I was feeling much better by then with Boofuls’ words of wisdom still ringing in my ears and was able to just shake my head and say “Oh, Douggie, you are such a bad doggie. Come here and give me a cuddle you bad sod.”
So what were the magic words that took me from nervous breakdown to relative serenity in no time?
“On a scale of things love, this is nothing. We’ve still got each other and mornings like this morning really help to get things like this into perspective. It’s only a carpet. Don’t worry about it. ”
What would I do without my Boofuls, eh?
Now, excuse me. I have to go and scrape up some more paint.