I clambered up the ladder again today to get the stuff off the high shelf...before I murdered the spiders and painted the wall behind it...the shelf, that is...I don't like that step ladder one bit...it wobbles about in an alarming fashion for a start though Himself insists it's perfectly safe but I always have a vague idea in the back of my mind that me falling from a great height would be an excellent means of getting rid of me...he wouldn't though, 'cos he can't cook.
So anyway I hoisted down the Moose Antlers Cindy gave me for my birthday ages ago and the earthenware jar I found in the garden when we first moved here and that odd old clock face that looks as though it must have come from a school that I bought at the carboot for a fiver...
Then I sort of swiped with the feather duster which isn't feathers at all but some sort of nylon stuff which is supposed to keep all the dust together and it doesn't...it lied. I can't grapple with the vacum you see on top of the ladder otherwise I'd just vacum up the dust and the spiders and their messy old webs and all those little carefully wrapped parcels of flies and baby spiders that I used to think were mouse droppings until my brain worked properly and I realised what they really were...
While I was up there...close to the ceiling and wondering vaguely what it was like when there wasn't a ceiling but just rafters and the underside of the thatch I remembered a lady who was admitted to my ward at the hospital who constantly grabbed at her crotch...like Miley Cyrus...but this poor lady was totally riddled with pubic lice so she had a good excuse...we had to shave her bits and the lice hopped out onto the towel she was standing on.
That memory made me itch a bit actually but it isn't easy to be itchy while standing on the top rung of an iffy step ladder...so I tried to think of something else instead.
We watched a television programme last night about a man who killed a family back in 1970 in America and he was sent to prison even though it was as plain as the nose on your face that he was mentally ill and simply not responsible...
I still have an urge to gather those sort of people up and look after them even after all this time...
So after I'd had a think about murderers who were clearly ill and pubic lice and living under the thatch and that sort of thing I climbed down the steps gingerly and hanging on for grim death and stirred the paint.
This paint is excellent...it covers really well and I don't have to keep squinting at the bare patches and doing it all again but my stamina is pretty awful since the hospital episode so I can only do a little bit at a time and at this rate I'll be lucky to have finished by Christmas...
I suddenly remembered there was an old blanket under the mattress on our bed so I heaved everything off and scurried away into my workroom with it clutched gleefully in my arms...then I chopped it up into lap quilt sized pieces and now all I have to do is add the binding and the very bright blue and nausous yellow lap quilt will be finished. My sewing machine doesn't like sewing blankets and spits a bit and then the cotton breaks and a wasp came in and buzzed round my head and Eilis snored...loudly. But it looks ok all said and done and will certainly brighten up the easy chair and probably give visitors a raging headache...
Better think about something exciting for supper...I bought a packet of chemicals last week to put in with chicken...might use that and see if it tastes nice...