Well, I can officially say, if I never pull another staple out of a floorboard it'll be too soon.
This weekend was Operation Shut Heating Up and it was totally knackering.
Blanco did an amazing job, and there really aren't enough thank yous for him, for hammering in what must have been 200 tacks to secure my hardboard floor, at 7pm, after a day of ripping it all up.
And the result?
Well, it seems to be quiet.
And if anyone else dares complain about it, then they can pay the carpet man obscene amounts of money to pull my carpet up then return to put it down and be exceptionally rude at the same time. They can rip the skin off their knuckles pulling out staples, move the entire contents of my bedroom – and I have a lot of shoes – and have hips that feel like they've done a million can-can kicks, because I am not doing it again.
In all fairness, she was gushingly grateful when I saw her yesterday. This on-going problem with the noise has spanned a decade, and when you picture the timescale, you can kind of understand her desperation.
But then I can understand my desperation, too. My desperation to make it stop, the nagging – I mean.
So yesterday, I got up at 7am, when my heating was due to come on, and sat on my little IKEA stool, a long piece of wood attached to my ear, the other pressed against the flow pipe on my radiator, listening!
This, for all my deafness, was a very good conductor of sound. So good in fact, that I could actually hear the rushing of the water – and nothing else.
Anyway changing the subject slightly, today I am doing my ‘No Snow’ dance as Big Bro is going to try for a second time to visit me at the weekend!
When the forecaster started blabbering on about snow this morning, I was furious. To ruin one visit from Big Bro is bad enough, but to ruin two, well that's just plain rude.
So I guess I'm just going to have to watch this space and keep everything crossed not only for the weather to stay calm, but that Operation Shut Heating Up has been a success, too.