Tuesday, 5 July 2011

I'm still alive

Just.

When you get thrown into a playpen with a steam stripper and a scraper time just flies until you find the end of the day approaching and the layers of paper that were once on the walls are now stuck to your legs, as far up as your thighs.  Not quite the look that I was going for, but this is Crewe.

Must rush to the house for a delivery and prepare the floorboards to be re-floored this weekend.

And go to the storage place to get more of my boxes.

And call for more quotes.

And play with more paper.

13 comments:

Daddy Papersurfer said...

Paper encrusted thighs!!!! *faints*

Anonymous said...

Ah, the joys of house renovation. I'm sure the neighbours would rather get a peek of you stripping than Richard, though :)

johng said...

Steam stripper? What's her name, and how much?

viviane said...

Pictures, pictures, please !

Anonymous said...

All that steam is supposed to be good for one's complexion. How did the old wallpaper work for waxing one's legs?

Anonymous, too

Zoe said...

Anon too - not very well.......

Richard Wintle said...

Ah, there you are. I thought I'd lost you again.

I'm confused by the playpen reference though. The bits about being covered in paper and having steam blowing all over you made perfect sense, however.

Zoe said...

R'pus - toys and all that. You know.

Blazing said...

...and the worm-charming championship results? Only half kidding. Sounds like fun. Pleased for you.

Martin said...

Yippee !

I have found Zoe again..,

Zoe said...

Blazing - I'll be blogging about the worm charming when I get a break from the house. It's all go at the moment but I'll need a break soon as my back is killing me.

Hello Martin! :)

Martin said...

So glad to hear you're happy.

Bulldog said...

In another place, in another life, I chose what I thought was a truly impressive, masculine and appropriate walpaper for my den.

I labored under that misconception until, while driving through a much seedier part of town, my wife pointed to the second floor of a massage parlor under demolition.

Need I go on . . . ?

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