Yesterday was fine. I went to work, nothing had changed when I got back, all was ok (well, not OK but you know, not worse). But today I'm off work to I am charged with taking the kids out for the day so he can continue to "crack on" ... these words will find their way onto his tomb stone!
So a quick food shop, nip into B&Q for hubby, and also Wickes, then a McDonald's lunch for me and the kids before camping out at the local Fun Factory for as long as they'll let us stay. I paid for an hour, we were thee for 3!
Part way through our Fun Factory-ing I get a call from Hubby. Remember that he NEVER EVER calls me normally. When I answer he sounds shaken breathless, and unhappy. My first thought "has he been crying?" then "Oh crap! He's injured He's called for an ambulance and there's blood and limbs everywhere!") so I asked the obvious: "Are you alright? What's happened?!" while trying not to alarm the kids who have suddenly magnetised them selves to me purely because I'm on the phone and it might be important.
He takes a breath and starts "I've accidentally broken the bathroom window, BUT ITS OK, I'VE SPOKEN TO PLAS-TECH AND IT'S ONLY GOING TO COST....blah blah blah...." Turns out he had momentarily mislaid the spirit level, turned to find it, knocked over one of the biggest beams he was going to use to make the new wall, and it crashed into the window. There's a nice hole in my blind (which didn't fit anyway) but it was the only thing that saved the beam from smashing both layers of the double glazing instead of just knocking a hole in the first layer and cracking the second. Oh, well, that's ok then!
He had made sure that he has called round to get some rough prices and book a glazier before calling me! Probably wise. I think he was expecting a full on bollocking over the phone, or worse when I got home, so wanted to be ready with "look I'm fixing it" retaliations. Thankfully I was still on a chemically induced high from the junk food and full fat/full caffeine cola, and acutely aware that I was in a large room full of small children and their parents. Bellowing "WHAT THE FECK?! PACK YOUR STUFF!" probably would not have gone down very well.
Right now it's 5 mins till the kids bedtime. He is still banging and hammering about up there. I'll have to tell him to stop when I've done typing this (I'm putting off changing my youngest's nappy coz franky he smells evil). This should mean that since I'm working tomorrow & Friday, and he's week of work should be starting on Thursday, that he has failed to get the wall up for the weekend. Then he says he's managed to swap some shifts and he's off till Monday! Mind you, that actually only gives him ONE extra day to get it finished before Saturday.