I never had the knack of moving all the little tiles around, this way and that until they formed a complete picture. I'd get almost there but inevitably there would be at least one little square miles away from where it should be.
And THAT, dear reader, is the story of my life at the moment.
With work on our shower room due to start in less than a fortnight, and associated decorating and remodelling overlapping with the plumbing work, the house is gradually descending into looking more like a furniture storage warehouse than a calm and restful home.
Various pieces of furniture have to be moved around, from upstairs to downstairs and vice versa. Some large pieces are to be sold and moved out, others are coming downstairs temporarily while I paint and upcycle them. Then they can be relocated in their new spaces in different rooms.
Several hundred books are being boxed up to donate to our local hospice charity retail outlet. Wardrobe edits are in progress and the resultant fallout is being bagged up, again destined for charity donation.
It comes to something when my workroom, which is normally the most chaotic, messy space in the entire house, feels like a relative oasis of calm.
I'm fully expecting ALL of May to be similarly chaotic, with work of one kind or another ongoing in various rooms. The dining room is already ahead of the posse... the tables are pushed right back against the wall and it's gradually filling with displaced furniture, boxes of books, bags of stuff and therefore it is firmly out of commission for the duration.
I'm hoping against hope that the workroom, which can vacillate from tidy to messy in the space of a few hours, will act as my sanctuary of sanity, as I will be having to keep working throughout. Similarly, I'm hoping that as the sitting room isn't involved in the madness, it will remain uncluttered.
Whether any of these hopes will turn out to be founded, remains to be seen. But for the moment I'm