Targeted by a mischievous demon.

Last week’s completed project – tiled kitchen. Carpeting to follow.

Much time has been spent on home-to-be this week.  Above is one result.

A weekend high(low)light:
I want access through some private land and applied by email for a key, as invited on a notice at the (Fort Knox-type) entrance.  Yesterday a reply came with a set of agreements and indemnities requiring that these, plus ID docs, be delivered to 49 Gloople street between the hours of 08h00 and 15h00 hours over weekends. 

I do a double-take at that.  Yip, that is definitely what it says. 

Oh, dear. 

My printer won’t print, because it is demanding a cartridge.  So I shoot off to my pet printer shop to get one of the ones they keep in stock for me to fire my Canon.  Oops – it is the only one missing from their supply. 

‘No panic – email the attachments you received to us, and we’ll print them for you tomorrow.’ 

Duly done, and I collect the various copies this morning.  Now, I need to save them to file.  Scanner refuses, with cartridge as an excuse.  ‘But I don’t WANT to print; only scan!’ I wail.  Printer switches itself off in response. 

Never mind, I’ll just deliver the documents, I resolve.  I sign my life away on the documents now printed (doing a bit of editing on them, where there are errors in grammar, legality, and sense), and go there.  Gloople Street has a 51 and a 47.  No 49.   There is, however, a house beyond with no number.  It has locked gates and no signs of life.  Finally, after I make many noises, life appears.  I explain my errand.  ‘Next door!’ the occupant snaps, and vanishes. 

I go back to 47 and seek any means of entry.  None exist.  I activate their dogs.  That works, and a nice lady eventually appears.  She explains that the upstairs part of 47 is actually 49.  However, the occupant is wandering gaily overseas, as is her wont, and the person who attends to business like mine appears during the appointed hours – over weekDAYS!   Sympathetic noises are made when I explain the effort I have gone to in order to deliver over the weekend.  ‘She does tend to get a bit confused,’ I am told. 

I don’t blame the globetrotting lady.  I blame this blithering little rascal of a demon who is having fun messing with my mentality, such as it may be. 

Anyway, I did some energetic exercise with my self-serviced chainsaw, and had the pleasure of discovering that the sea glimpses from our new property will actually be more than glimpses by the time I finish. 

© Colonialist August 2014 (WordPress)