Mutter mutter

It is of course famously in the nature of people who spend a lot of time by themselves, living or working or both, that we tend to talk to ourselves.

Those of us who have the wisdom to keep cats can disguise this to some degree, by talking to them; but that's really only a cover, and never a substitute. They're seldom interested, unless you're actually talking about them.

I've been talking to myself for the best part of thirty years, to my certain memory: all my professional life, essentially. I'm honestly not sure how much I do it now, because I only notice under particular circumstances: mostly those where I might be overheard (which is mostly the times of most impatience, when the person just ahead of me is being stupid or obstructive or inconsiderate: "oh yes, why don't you stand just there where you're completely blocking the aisle? ...hey, look, if you skew your baby buggy just another six inches we'd all have to walk in the gutter..." etc).

But, I note, I also do it when I'm most uncertain, just stepping out into new territory. Like right now, this morning. I am in fact quite an experienced wallpaperer, famous among my friends for my papery skills; but I haven't done it for years, and I might have forgotten how. And the last room I wallpapered was my own bathroom, which is so steamy & soggy that the damn' paper is coming off again, so I am confronted with my own failure every day. And I've never done what I mean to do today, which is to try to reinstate the peeling paper in my study here, where it peeled because the roof was leaking and the plaster behind was soggy. Plaster's dry now (to the touch, at least), and I have a theory for reattaching the paper. Whether it'll work, I frankly have no idea, but it's worth trying. I don't think it'll look very good, but I can hide the worst of it and it can't look worse than it does at the moment.

But I was just downstairs cleaning the equipment - and yup, heard myself talking to myself. Not saying anything particularly dynamic or meaningful, just boosting my confidence a bit, because I'm not confident. For values of 'not confident' that are very, very close to sending me off shopping instead.

Also, a certain young cat has been trying to eat the wallpaper paste. In its packet. Um, why...?

Papery update, t+40

Say not the struggle naught availeth; not all my skillz are vanishèd.

Also, as I foretold thee, it looks kinda crap, by any reasonable wallpapering measure: just - as again I foretold thee - not half as crap as it looked before.

The trouble, of course, is that it's heavy paper that really needs a lot of soaking; but it's only peeling away at the top, so only half of it is getting soaked. And trying to handle half-and-half paper, and make the edges line up when the difference between soaked and unsoaked is measurable in severals of millimetre - eek. Also, one bit is being the very devil, as one bit always is. And yes, I do have to negotiate a corner.

And yes, the cats do keep trying to eat this interesting grey porridge. Somebody tell me it isn't toxic...?

Update: t+240

Wallpaper's still up. It's not smooooth, but frankly I don't think it was ever going to be, after the adventures it's had, hanging soggy for so long. The edges aren't too neat either, but the same criterion applies. If it doesn't fall down again before this evening, I will apply my further skillz, and see what we can do to clean & tidy it up. And then tomorrow I'll set about hiding it behind bookcases and teddy bears and such.

If I can manage with all the heavy lifting & complication that entails. There's a filing cabinet to shift and my whole desk here (with all that that implies, which is mostly a mess of paper & cabling) to be pulled away from the wall and more into the centre of the room. I'd far rather leave it where it is, but this is a five-metre run of wall, entirely uninterrupted by windows or fireplaces or alcoves or anything, with no bookshelves against it. I am not so rich in wall that I can afford five wasted metres. It shall be shelved, top to toe. That's tomorrow's project.

Right now, I'm waiting to be collected for dog-walking purposes. In the cold, with my cold, just as the dark sets in. This cannot be sensible.