We're moving to Oamaru this year (sometime after April) and are finally doing all the things to the house I wanted done for years. YEARS. We have a new kitchen benchtop and have painted our old grey tongue-and-groove cupboards and put new handles on so they look almost new and very smart. Next up is replacing the tiles (the previous owners never even bothered to tile behind their oven and we have a smaller one). We now have new carpet in two rooms and on the landings to replace the crappy old dark brown stuff. Still to do are the bathrooms (new basins and taps, reline one shower). A lot of this I've had to do look after myself because Greg's been away for a funeral, a wedding, a conference in Seattle, and this week another funeral; more on that below.
And oh joy, it'll start all over again in Oamaru as I plan to rip up all the carpet and oil the lovely wooden floors under them, completely replace the ancient kitchen, and add a small en suite. Plus paint various walls at some point.
When we went down to look at houses (and buy one) we stayed at a B&B and got to know the owner well. He's a retired guy who does painting and other handyman stuff so Greg got him up to paint our house because even paying for flights, he's a lot cheaper than Auckland tradespeople. The only thing is, he only eats the plainest food and all the meals I'd planned I couldn't serve. Oy. He didn't even like the wholegrain bread we use. He also has plain taste in TV so he and Greg are watching a doco about trains right now and I'm in here biting the posting bullet. So there you go.
Through no fault of Doug's, Sebastian the wimp cat is scared of him (and the plumber and carpet layers etc etc) but at least he's starting to venture inside so that's a relief.
Greg's mother has dementia and the family get rung several times a week because she's: 1) wandering; 2) reporting her car stolen (she doesn't have one); 3) trying to get her house, now demolished after the Christchurch earthquakes, moved to a new area; 4) complaining that she has to live in someone else's house (it's hers); 5) telling the police "the boys haven't come home"; 6) telling the police her daughters have been in and wrecked the house (nothing has ever happened, it's always tidy); and so on. And now she has been diagnosed with cancer, having smoked for most of her life. This week she's been put into respite care. Not that Greg's brother, the one with power of attorney, bothered to tell anyone so everyone else was frantic last night thinking she'd wandered off and got lost or injured.
Greg's aunt, who has had cancer for years, died today, a couple of months after an old family friend went. It just goes on.
I resigned effective the end of this month and am training a replacement who seems to take ages grasping the various processes and paying proper attention to detail. I am happy to Skype and share screens with her which has been a good way to teach the marketing person how to do website updates, but her home connection is so crap and slow, I have to go into the office every morning to train her in person. We're both meant to be working from home and I was enjoying being able to do that. Seriously, having to get properly dressed and show up every morning is NOT FUN. Plus it's really hot in the office with no aircon or fan. Blecch.
The biggie. Remember when I tripped and cut my head open last August? I had to go to hospital to get stitches and they kept me in overnight for observation, an MRI, and X-ray, all of which were fine. However the blood tests showed I was anaemic so they had a look to see why a couple of months later and took two bits out. One was fine; the other wasn't. So I have to have a larger bit out next week, and if that's fine, ll's all good; if it's not, then it will be "mild" chemo. What scares me though is the long list of potential complications of the surgery which are only 5% likely, but still. I have to keep telling myself that there's a 95% probability they'll do a keyhole and I'll be home in a couple of days.
Actually, tripping over, the doctor tells me, very likely saved my life. So that's good.
So yeah, lots of stress.
I did plan to write my trope bingo stories while Doug's here but yeah, I'm just reading and knitting, both of which help me relax and forget about next week.
What am I knitting, you ask? (Or probably not.) My very first baby blanket for 2-month-old Quinn, the latest addition to my own extended family. My blanket (this pattern) is charcoal and white - no pastels for me or Quinn who was wearing black-and-white striped cotton overalls when I met him.
I think that covers pretty much everything. Also posted on Dreamwidth, with comments.