I mean this quite literally. Who hasn’t come across one of these modern ceiling lights where changing a lightbulb involves a major exercise in deconstruction?
It’s the same with windows. All windows appear to be designed by men who have never done an honest day’s work in their lives. Where they open at all (and by no means do they all open), they will open outwards and they will consist of many tiny squares just too small for the squeegee to fit. Even major contortions may not be enough to get at the outer squares and the only way to reach them is via a thirty foot ladder. I wonder how many people get maimed or killed each year while attempting to clean their windows.
I have just finished with the windows in the upstairs bedroom and the neighbours’ kids think I’m a madwoman because of the way I hold my head when squinting to see the streaks in the grey light. After hours of diligent effort the windows look worse than before. As soon as the sun comes out it will look as if I have purposefully dirtied them. I can only hope that the viewing happens on a rainy day. As if that wasn’t enough, I can’t clean the windows in the boxroom because they won’t open and it is now plainly obvious that they haven’t been cleaned in years. Nobody would have noticed if I hadn’t bother with the rest of them.
Moving to the other end of the village is supposed to be hassle-free. It won’t take any time at all to get the heavy stuff shifted with the help of some hunky removal men and then we’ll have time to go over the house, give it a final lick and shift the remaining small things by car. But it is the small things that cause the most problems. I foresee that we make many trips—five alone to shift our herb garden by the look of it. As always, I’m tempted to just get a skip and put everything inside, except for my kitchen stuff. Oh, and our books. And the computer…
Anyway this blog entry is going to be the last for a while because it may take some time to get the phone line fixed and everything set up. From Thursday I’ll be at the Worldcon in Glasgow (if they let me on the plane: I stupidly put ‘Denni’ down as my name which isn’t what it says on the passport and I’ll probably be arrested as a potential terrorist. Ironically my record in Scotland is also under the name Denni). Of course I want to blog from Worldcon but we aren’t techy enough to have a WiFi enabled messenger device and even if we did there’s no free WiFi. So my con-reports will have to wait until the week after next.