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desperanceThe kitchen floor is lightly strewn with debris, fragments of rotted joist that have found their way down from above. A part of me thinks that as I'm not working nor liable to work now, I could usefully be down there ripping foul old paper off the wall and seeing how much plaster comes with it.
And yet, you know? I am not. I'm up here, poking at the internets and really doing nothing at all. One part idleness to two parts craven, I think: the kitchen walls are almost as scary as the bathroom floor. The upper half, as I say, foul old plasticised paper; the lower half, really nasty fake panelling. Anything could be happening behind that, and almost certainly is.
And yet, you know? I am not. I'm up here, poking at the internets and really doing nothing at all. One part idleness to two parts craven, I think: the kitchen walls are almost as scary as the bathroom floor. The upper half, as I say, foul old plasticised paper; the lower half, really nasty fake panelling. Anything could be happening behind that, and almost certainly is.