The painter turned up at 7.30am yesterday. I did happen to be up because I was thinking he'd probably arrive at 8am. On the one hand it's excellent that he was keen to get started but to be honest it's a bit selfish on the part of the company to have their working day begin when most normal people are getting ready for work.
It's not like I have other rooms to escape into as you would in a house. My life largely exists out of that little room and being kicked out at 7.30am before you've had a chance to shower and get dressed is a pain.
He spent all day painting and chatting to me about his adventures on George St with all the "girly girls". He's 39 and single after his most significant relationship ended when he was 28. Now he looks for his new relationship amongst the 20 somethings in Why Not? and Tiger Lily (two horrible horrible over-priced clubs in Edinburgh's New Town). I had to sit through nearly 6 hours of him telling me about his successes and knock-backs. I shouldn't know this much about a man who's painting my walls, it was all a little awkward, especially as I was attempting to work on my dissertation at the kitchen table. Even closing the door didn't stop him.
Anyway, with all the chat he didn't quite finish so wanted to come back this morning at 7.45am. I got up at 6am to make sure I had time to be ready. Hopefully he'll be done and gone by the time I pop back at 2pm to pick up my things for the weekend.
Off to Mum and Dad's tonight, and the wedding tomorrow.
I'll be back on Sunday when I can finally get my room set to rights. It'll be such a relief to be rid of the chaos. I just wish that the painter was as quiet as the plasterer. I don't mean to be a cow but there's some occassions when candid chat about your love life is totally unwanted!
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1 comment:
eww I hate when builders tell you their life stories - the exact same thing happened to be before. I guess they must get lonely but that's their problem!!
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