Bit of a frustrating day. We’re having some new flooring laid, dragging the house from the 1980s, kicking and screaming into at least the 2010s. (The 2020s are so damn expensive and pandemicky, we felt them best avoided in flooring terms. Sadly, we had very little option in actual chronological terms.) The guys came and did the prep work yesterday, and it took a couple of hours. We were hoping for the same again today, but it took six hours. That’s not to say that they didn’t do an excellent job, but I had plans for four of those six hours. But now they’ll have to wait for tomorrow.
I’m off to see a specialist tomorrow afternoon about this ongoing Covid nonsense. Part of me wants him to cure me completely. Well, I suppose all of me wants him to cure me completely, it’s just that all of me knows that that isn’t going to happen. So tomorrow will be a bit of a watershed moment. Either he has huge plans for my recovery (not ruling out a total cure, but, you know…), or he’s going to tell me to give it another six months and see how we’re doing then.
I’ve always been on of those “well, at least I know where I stand now” kind of people when it comes to medical diagnoses, but I’m not looking forward to the – let’s face it – more probable latter prognosis.
In the meantime, the floor does look much nicer. Next up, replacing the rotting wood of the cottage-paned patio doors, and dragging the house… ah, you know the story.
I’m off outside to enjoy the last of the sunshine and try and get a photo of one of our Cape Robin Chats.