Windows, Workmen and WTF do I know?

They arrived last Tuesday.

The workmen.

Contracted to replace the manky, rotten, peeling, warped brown things that encase the escapes to the blue. Not before time, this renewal.

I made tea, lots of tea, 90,000 million cups of tea. In real man mugs. I even produced some passable repasts for their delectation. I deferred to their obvious superior knowledge, reluctantly, on numerous occasions. I was careful not to let them see me cringeing inwardly, as they, unceremoniously, tore out the old windows, ripped acres of plaster off the walls in the process, effed and blinded hilariously with each other, snorted and spat, smoked and coughed, cursed and swore. They were REAL men, after all. Honest to god, hardworking, salt of the earth, labouring craftsmen.

Sure.

One of these treasures of God's gift to women managed to secure himself an express seat to the Hot Place. If I have any say in the matter. In the process of removing the existing front door (with all the finesse of a dinosaur), this treasure of manhood managed to cut through the telephone wire. Completely. No phone. No Internet.

Not the end of the world, you might think. Accidents happen, you say.

I know all of this.

And, normally, I am quite stoical.

But.

Daughter No.2 went on holidays to France last Wednesday, for 6 days. She had, kind soul that she is, given me computer privileges for the duration. Oh, the plans I had! To catch up, to read and comment, to laugh and enjoy, and perhaps, even, blog myself! The exhilaration of it all!

And then, this cerebrally challenged gob-shite went and scuppered them all.

"Theres nothing we can do until next Monday, Missus".... yet another genius, of the male variety, from the phone company, assured me.

By Friday, I was quite calm and friendly again.

Today is Monday. They were due to finish today. I hovered, made tea, ooohed and aaahed appropriately, made more tea. But eventually had to leave at 10.45 for a dental appointment. "We'll be here til 2.30 Missus .... can't see us finishing before that". I arrived back at 1.30. House deserted, doors locked, windows shut. Keys to front and back door sitting, INSIDE the house, on the kitchen counter. I could see them. And me bursting for a small small. Not a hairy-assed, fag-smoking specimen of working manhood to be seen. One small window upstairs, slightly ajar, one manic phone call to GB.... "No, I don't have any of the new keys" .... one very severe warning to NOT EVEN ATTEMPT IT. Meanwhile, I am in dire straits. A kindly neighbour offered tea, sympathy and facilities. A short while later, GB arrives, toting ladder and macho attitude. Nearly made a eunuch of himself scrambling through the tiny window, real man that he is. And then couldn't figure out how to unlock new fangled locks on new doors. Stone Age Heros, so endearing.

More macho men arrived and fixed the phone line. We are reconnected. The reconnection fee will be included in our next bill.

"Huh?"

"Thems the rules, Missus"

I love when Life runs smoothly along.