Recently we decided the kitchen needed livening up and that we’d go with a ‘cheesy Italian-themed restaurant’ look, red checkered tablecloth, plastic garlic strings and all. I had no idea that finding a red checkered tablecloth would be so difficult. We would’ve had better luck requesting Rumplestiltskin spin us a tablecloth of pure gold. As for red matt emulsion paint…there is a chance that a local paint store might still be able to order us some from its Mainland counterpart, although ‘might’ is often employed in these parts as a polite euphemism for “ Not a snowball’s chance in hell!” Apparently our fellow island-dwellers prefer shades of beige to anything even remotely fun or colorful. Whatever, further excavations in the Land of Kitchen have been temporarily suspended. I am so devastated by this I needed a drink to
We did manage, however, to obtain black matt emulsion for the bathroom; after a day of trooping around town, during which we did a lot of elbowing and excuse-me-ing ( the excuse-me’s becoming a little less frequent and the elbowing a little more so as the day wore on ) through the heaving horde of wide-eyed and be-sandaled tourists disgorged from the latest behemoth of a cruise ship to invade our little port. Oh deep, deep joy. Especially for someone like me who has a horror of people invading her personal space. Every time I see one of these floating luxury prisons chug its way into our little bay, I remember that there is good reason why they have so many bars and alcohol flowing 24/7: thousands of people all stuck on a boat together in the middle of the ocean - if there wasn’t alcohol they’d all be chucking themselves overboard after two days just to get the fuck away from each other. Christ, the very notion of setting foot on a cruise ship has me reaching for the rum bottle.
|Even this would be preferrable to spending time on a cruise ship...|
Even the simple task of picture-hanging is not without its perils in our house. I’ve been a little more careful about my hammering ever since I thrust a hammer right through a wall once…well, how was I to know that section of the wall had been shored up and re-plastered? And no, I had no idea why there was a shored-up section of wall in the living room, nor did I want to know why, considering the dubious location of that particular house. I learned another valuable lesson this time around, and that is: when hanging pictures it is always a good idea to ensure they are securely hung before retiring for the night. Being awoken in the middle of the night by the sound of said picture crashing to the floor and taking with it a lamp, some books, and a couple ornaments, is not a good for your peace of mind.
And now I'll have to brave the tourist-infested streets once more to hunt down a fucking replacement lamp. Seriously, they call it tourist season, so why can't we shoot them?!
|Jane almost fell victim to a zombie tourist who tried to make her paint her kitchen in beige.|