Friday, 3 September 2010

One more thing...

And then I'm going to bed because yes, I have no life and am sitting at home blogging and listening to music on a Friday night and also, I'm old, have had a hell of a week and can hardly keep my eyes open.

Yesterday morning, after G had been packed off for his first day back at school, I'd washed my hair and had breakfast with a side of Stephen King, I offered to help my boss fix the wardrobe that had fallen apart the night before.
My boss, the dad, has recently retired. This is driving me nuts. Not only because I'm used to having the house to myself during the day and he keeps popping round corners and doorways saying "Sabina?" and scaring the shit out of me. But also because I've realised that he's not someone I enjoy spending a lot of time with. He's quite full of himself, very condescending and clearly doesn't understand how to run a household. Luckily he's going on a month-long course in a few weeks then starting his new job. Yay!

The wardrobe in question wasn't really broken. Just the door had come off. The very heavy door. Which I now found myself holding while my boss tried to slide the damn thing back on. And crushing my fingers. After a failed attempt where the door popped back off he started to fiddle with the tiny screws, managed to drop one and then couldn't find it. Clearly frustrated he turned to me and said, in a voice dripping with sarcasm, "got any more bright ideas?!"
Yes, how 'bout you don't lose the screws? Or maybe, I don't know, listen to me.
After finally finding the screw (on a shelf he kept telling me not to look on 'cause he'd seen it fall and it couldn't possibly be there) I took charge of the situation. I told him very clearly what to do and how. Ideally he should have been holding the door and I'd have done the fiddly stuff but he's got a bad back and if he would have thrown it out again that would just have made my life worse.

We finally got the door back on and he, of course took all the credit for it.
"That's what I was saying to do all along" kind of thing.
Well, last time I offer to help with something.

And he keeps saying "good girl" to me all the time. Just randomly. For like putting the milk away. As if I was a bit slow and needed constant encouragement. In a very patronising way.

Honestly, I'm not sure I'll still have my sanity by the time he goes off for his course!

sab x

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