We are having our kitchen floor retiled. Unbeknownst to me this involved grinding the top level of the old tiles off. The tiler forgot to shut the door. The whole
House, upstairs and down is covered in red brick dust. The Christmas tree looks like it's survived a dust storm in the desert. I can't even get into the kitchen. The dogs were locked out of the way in our room for a while (against my strict instructions to DP) and one has pissed on our bed which I've just discovered after getting back from a horrible day at work.
I turn 40 tomorrow. Bad enough in itself. But I will now be waking up in a Martian landscape, probably after a bad night on the sofa if the bed doesn't dry out now I've scrubbed it with Zoflora.
DP has just said 'well you surely expected a bit of dust?' I want to murder him. The man is a builder. And if he'd 'expected a bit of dust' why did he not put dust sheets up? And maybe shut all the bloody doors.
Not much makes me cry but I don't even know where to start With the cleaning...and I'm starving but can't get to the fridge
.