The dangers of being at home

The idea of being at home more often is wonderful.

All that extra time to sit in the garden, keep on top of the chores, and keep the fridge well-stocked.

But when you spend more time somewhere, you can’t help but notice some of its faults.

One of the fence panels at the end of our garden has gotten damp at the top and looks like it might need replacing. Apparently it’s been like that for years, I’ve just never noticed.

Have you ever spotted, husband, that the kitchen door doesn’t sit quite right? Yes. It needs re-hanging. He noticed it the day we moved in. Well, I never.

And have you spotted that the bath panel doesn’t fit the bath and is just sort of hovering in the gap? Yes, but I was scared to tell you in case you wanted to decorate the entire bathroom.


And that is why, on a sunny Thursday afternoon, I am sitting working in one room listening to someone smash through a wall in the other side of my house.

Because, apparently, decorating a bathroom is not as simple as it sounds.

There are the tiles to pick, of course. Thousands upon thousands of them, in varying sizes and shapes and shades of white.

And have you ever tried to compare white bathtubs on a white background on a white website? It’s like some sort of cruel adult Spot the Difference puzzle. I’m yet to find any differences.

There’s the measuring, and the ordering, and the waiting in for things, and the arguing on the phone when they turn up damaged, and the organising of the various tradesmen to be in your house in some semblance of a schedule.

And then there’s the moment you realise that one of the internal walls of your house is actually not really a wall, but some sort of straw that someone has put a very thin coat of plaster on, nailed some MDF to and tiled over, hoping no one would ever notice.

And none of this would ever have been discovered if I hadn’t decided to work from home.

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