So I’m pretty sure I’ve posted before about how one of our friends stepped wrong on a bit of the loo floor while drunk a few months ago and put her foot through? And it wasn’t a big patch, and we’re broke-assed, so we just kind of left it.
This morning, more of the loo floor gave way. It’s now fucked enough that repairing it has become significantly more urgent, and Field is calling the builder tomorrow morning so we can get a quote. Hopefully, it won’t be terribly expensive: it’s only half the toilet floor (the other half was replaced before we bought the place), and that’s a very small area – perhaps half a square metre or so.
Other than that, nothing much has gone on, housewise. The roof no longer appears to be leaking, and we’re doing some gardening this weekend. I’m really looking forward to the gardening; it’s been a while since I’ve had 2 days off from work/study in a row, and I rather desperately miss having flowers around. Plus, the bit of the vege garden near the fence REALLY needs weeding, it’s gotten completely overgrown. And we need to mow the lawn.
Home ownership, in essence, is sometimes frustrating and often unexpectedly expensive, but it’s still a pleasure; and I need to keep that in mind as I leap over the hole in my toilet floor when I go to the loo in the dead of night.