7918/20859
The great tidy up continued and I mainly concentrated on the garden today. The pressure washer was back out which was fun but like all things that are fun, it made my hand hurt after a while.
In the office space I just had some shelves to clear of programmes and leaflets (that I have to send out as part of the prize for being the monthly badger monthly draw winner). Yeah, it's a good prize. I wondered if I needed such big piles, particularly of the leaflets (which to be honest I mainly don't bother sending out as prizes, as they are of limited interest and all the shows are done now so don't even work as PR). I decided to throw away most of them, but for now dumped them in my walk in cupboard. The Hitler Moustache leaflets were the last ones to go in and I then worried that prospective buyers, who'd already noticed the cameras above the bed and the large beheaded golden body with a sword by it, would spot them and think that the owner of this house was really into Hitler. Having looked round a house where the owner had left a bit of actual shit on the toilet seat, I know how off putting one tiny detail can be when searching for a house, even if that thing won't be there when you move in. I knew I could never live in that house as every time I went to the loo I'd think of the lump of shit and feel sick. Even if I changed the toilet seat, even if I changed the toilet and redecorated and fumigated, the ghost of that shit would be with me all the time I lived there (and maybe after all that time in my life, once I moved would follow me to my next toilet).
So anyone looking at my house would forever associate their home with an Only Fans sex attic, a Gold-fingered and beheaded Greg Davies and Adolf Hitler. And anyone who is comfortable with that... well I don't want their money, that's for sure. The fucking perverts.
I have worked flat out these last two days and by the kids' bedtime I was pretty much the most exhausted I've been. I know my job is not the most physically demanding, but two days of lifting stuff and gardening a bit and I am fucking broken. I have to say I've done an amazing job, but at what cost?
I was so tired I didn't even have the energy to make my hand hurt again. And it takes an awful lot to stop me doing that.
