Image Credit
Let me be clear - I'm not whining about Tradesmen as such.
It's all about what I have to do because they're there.
It means I have to clean. FFS!?
Lest they take the time out of their work to even give a shit to notice the state of my kitchen from their position on top of a ladder outside my kitchen window. God forbid a dish is draining, a piece of carrot skin is hanging out of the bin,
Likewise for putting on my face, and a different set of clothes, clean clothes, daily. It means I have to cook for them. FFS!? Because one of them knows #1Pop and therefore it is totally like having family doing the work, and so I must continually offer up refreshments and Nigella Lawson style snacks, even though they aren't really interested, they just want to get in, get the job done, and get out and on to the next job without having to politely decline or accept baked goods. It means I have to parent. FFS!? Lest they (the predominantly young and child-free tradesmen) peer inside my window while perched up high with a nail gun, and note that I am on my laptop while The Twin Tornado are watching TV, and therefore deem me a neglectful parent. Or worse, I'm the one watching TV (busted watching Beverley Hills Nannies while muttering hateful and jealous 'shed words'), while The Twin Tornado are swearing and doing a nudie run. All of this has been running through my mind, as I struggle to keep my house clean every day, fend off the hungry masses (#1Hubby) and protect the muffins and sausage rolls etc. while ignoring whines about why I don't make that stuff for my family, and lose my shit over which darling little child forgot to flush the toilet while thanking the Vodka Gods a tradesman didn't walk in there next. FFS. It's been a stressful 2 weeks. And the tradesman haven't even shown up yet. I am "on call". Meaning they could be here any day, at any time. So I've been going through this on a daily basis for 2 weeks and they haven't even started the week-long job of putting up the patio yet. FFS!?