demolition site

Unfortunately, I’m not talking about our current renos. No, as I sit here, wrapped up in my PJs and slippers, and look around our lovely home, I realise it looks like a bomb’s hit it. (Apologies to anybody reading this whose home actually has been hit by a bomb.) There are our four property files (one for each, including our home) on the coffee table, which is also covered in paperwork of almost every description – receipts, scraps of paper with measurements on them (‘kitchen window, 94cms W x 137cms H’), and all four of my books relating to investment.

As I raise my eyes, I see two large boxes across the room – the new washing machine and wall oven for the unit. Past the boxes is our dining table. It’s large (2.25mx 1.5m) and apart from two place settings, it’s also covered in paperwork and other reno-related items (kitchen flickmixer tap, anybody?). About the only clean area I can see is the kitchen, and that’s primarily because the only meal we’ve been regularly having at home has been breakfast. There are other touches which add to the disaster – a basket of dry laundry by the back door (I was in a rush, so after taking it off the line I didn’t get any further with it), and the esky we cart to the unit on the other side of the laundry basket.

The place basically is a pigsty. The rest of the house is much the same. Both bathrooms need a clean, and the floor hasn’t been vacuumed in weeks.

My mum is coming by tomorrow. We take our ironing to her place so her ironing lady can do it. It’s worth the money. We don’t do it every week, but when we’re working and also doing renovations, it’s a life saver. So Mum is bringing our freshly ironed laundry over, which saves me a round trip of about two hours. However, I suspect I’ll spend that time frantically cleaning before she gets here. If nothing else, at least the place will be habitable again, I guess.