Under Pressure

It’s a funny situation to be in. On one hand I respond well to the support and motivation of my lady in getting our little home fixed up and nice. She loves being there and can’t wait to live there and recognises as I do that it needs a bit of work to get things ready. I mean, I want it to be perfect, you know? I need things fixing up in the kitchen and outside and I have made a commitment to her to get these things done, and done within a reasonable time frame. But, sometimes it goes a little bit too far and it makes me want to down tools and go on strike. Like today, for example. I promised that tonight I will bag up all the rubble in out back ready to be taken to the tip on Wednesday. I’ve also organised for some things to be collected from there by the council and for some radiators (which have been sat outside for a year) to be collected by the scrap man. I went from this morning having nothing in place and nothing ready, to having five of the six items sorted and ready to go, but now pressure is being applied for the sixth item to be organised for dispatch tonight also. So whilst she is out on the town with the girls, I’m sweating like a bitch, hacking and chopping.

Don’t get me wrong. I want to get this done. I want to get the yard fixed up and ready for us to sit out in the sun and drink and chat and ready for parties and this and that, but I don’t think it is too bad that I have gone from nothing to 83% [planned] complete in the space of a few hours.

Sometimes as much as you can is never enough.

No harsh words were exchanged, I have grown past that since the last one, but I did tell her that I thought she was pressuring me and that I didn’t like it too much. She apologised. Case closed – for now.

In other news: It seems like an age since I last updated this. I seem to go through periods of wanting to write and having something to write about followed by periods where I feel apathetic about this whole blogging business. Sometimes I think that people aren’t reading, then I don’t care if people are reading, then I tell myself it is just for me, then I wander who is reading, but mostly I just don’t care.


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