By the time you are reading this, we have landed in Bordeaux, picked up a van, and headed to IKEA for The Mega Shop of the Century. We have to get plates and pots and pans and sheets and light bulbs and lamps to put them in; a bed frame for the guest room - or at the very least a mattress (forget the master bedroom, that is going to take ages) - and while I think this is going to be the most fun a person can have on the whole entire of planet Earth, I know by the end Alan will have retreated into a dark and silent place. A place where the language consists of only three phrases: 'Fine,' 'Just Get It,' and 'I Can't Tell the Difference,' these muttered while slumped over the edge of the cart, the posture of a depleted and broken man, who won't be revived until a hot dog is placed in his listless hands.
And THEN comes the joy of assembly. Because nothing follows a day of OOH! OOH! I NEEEED IT! like opening that orange plastic toolkit at nine p.m. knowing that if you want to sleep, you have to build a bed, and they've given you an allen wrench to do it.
Wish us luck! Hopefully by the end of this weekend, we'll be one step closer to an inhabitable home and all its delights.
The Swiss Alps, from July. This is like the opposite of our weekend.
Big hugs and lots of love,