minor things that make you fume

chrismpw said:
DIY and beer end in dazed confusion.

The scenario - I'm laying a solid oak floor. Not just laying it - its reclaimed timber so I've had 60 square metres of it to denail, inspect and pass through my planer. I've had to shift the furniture, prepare the subsurface, lay, cut around doors, move radiators, apply hard wax etc. Its taken a while.

All the wife does is come home from a desk job and immediately observe that I hadn't washed up yesterday's pan. 'Koff.

Today I have a battle scarred mouth having visited the nearest nhs pull-tooth a round trip of 20 miles. My face is numb, the dinner's on, I'm relaxing after a hard day's manual work and contemplating whether I can drink tea without it dribbling down the side of my face. The wife is talking about something and suddenly I notice that the white noise is slightly different to usual.

Its running water from under the kitchen sink. Kinell! I sprint to the utility room where the stop tap is. I'm presented with the wife's latest solution to store the mountain of garden furniture cushions, which is to ram it between my 'settling homebrew stack and the tap.

I yank the cushions out of the way muttering something unrepeatable and, with the benefit of hindsight, momentarily forget my wife's other little charm, which is to pay no heed to electricL cable routing. So as I crouch down to turn the tap, my skull is met first by the handheld Dyson that was charging 5' above me on a shelf and then by a bottle of homebrew from the same shelf, which promptly burst and sprayed its contents all around the room.

Instead of supping tea and eating my dinner I'm now sat in a flooded kitchen vaguely concussed, covered in blood and stinking of beer. Its not even Friday night ffs!
Click to expand...
Please, PLEASE, tell me you have pictures.




Hope you're OK pal xx
 

tommye said:
Please, PLEASE, tell me you have pictures.




Hope you're OK pal xx
Click to expand...
Yes. Like the very next thing I thought of doing amidst this devastation was photographing myself! Sadly for you I'm not a millennial.

I now have 3 big scabs on me bald head (1 was yesterday caused by a cable pin when i stood up in the understairs closet ffs! Beginning to see the point of ppe.
 

chrismpw said:
DIY and beer end in dazed confusion.

The scenario - I'm laying a solid oak floor. Not just laying it - its reclaimed timber so I've had 60 square metres of it to denail, inspect and pass through my planer. I've had to shift the furniture, prepare the subsurface, lay, cut around doors, move radiators, apply hard wax etc. Its taken a while.

All the wife does is come home from a desk job and immediately observe that I hadn't washed up yesterday's pan. 'Koff.

Today I have a battle scarred mouth having visited the nearest nhs pull-tooth a round trip of 20 miles. My face is numb, the dinner's on, I'm relaxing after a hard day's manual work and contemplating whether I can drink tea without it dribbling down the side of my face. The wife is talking about something and suddenly I notice that the white noise is slightly different to usual.

Its running water from under the kitchen sink. Kinell! I sprint to the utility room where the stop tap is. I'm presented with the wife's latest solution to store the mountain of garden furniture cushions, which is to ram it between my 'settling homebrew stack and the tap.

I yank the cushions out of the way muttering something unrepeatable and, with the benefit of hindsight, momentarily forget my wife's other little charm, which is to pay no heed to electricL cable routing. So as I crouch down to turn the tap, my skull is met first by the handheld Dyson that was charging 5' above me on a shelf and then by a bottle of homebrew from the same shelf, which promptly burst and sprayed its contents all around the room.

Instead of supping tea and eating my dinner I'm now sat in a flooded kitchen vaguely concussed, covered in blood and stinking of beer. Its not even Friday night ffs!
Click to expand...
Are you one of the chuckle brothers?
 
chrismpw said:
DIY and beer end in dazed confusion.

The scenario - I'm laying a solid oak floor. Not just laying it - its reclaimed timber so I've had 60 square metres of it to denail, inspect and pass through my planer. I've had to shift the furniture, prepare the subsurface, lay, cut around doors, move radiators, apply hard wax etc. Its taken a while.

All the wife does is come home from a desk job and immediately observe that I hadn't washed up yesterday's pan. 'Koff.

Today I have a battle scarred mouth having visited the nearest nhs pull-tooth a round trip of 20 miles. My face is numb, the dinner's on, I'm relaxing after a hard day's manual work and contemplating whether I can drink tea without it dribbling down the side of my face. The wife is talking about something and suddenly I notice that the white noise is slightly different to usual.

Its running water from under the kitchen sink. Kinell! I sprint to the utility room where the stop tap is. I'm presented with the wife's latest solution to store the mountain of garden furniture cushions, which is to ram it between my 'settling homebrew stack and the tap.

I yank the cushions out of the way muttering something unrepeatable and, with the benefit of hindsight, momentarily forget my wife's other little charm, which is to pay no heed to electricL cable routing. So as I crouch down to turn the tap, my skull is met first by the handheld Dyson that was charging 5' above me on a shelf and then by a bottle of homebrew from the same shelf, which promptly burst and sprayed its contents all around the room.

Instead of supping tea and eating my dinner I'm now sat in a flooded kitchen vaguely concussed, covered in blood and stinking of beer. Its not even Friday night ffs!
Click to expand...
There are days when your finger goes through life's toilet paper.





...but the new floorboards were ok right
 

chrismpw said:
DIY and beer end in dazed confusion.

The scenario - I'm laying a solid oak floor. Not just laying it - its reclaimed timber so I've had 60 square metres of it to denail, inspect and pass through my planer. I've had to shift the furniture, prepare the subsurface, lay, cut around doors, move radiators, apply hard wax etc. Its taken a while.

All the wife does is come home from a desk job and immediately observe that I hadn't washed up yesterday's pan. 'Koff.

Today I have a battle scarred mouth having visited the nearest nhs pull-tooth a round trip of 20 miles. My face is numb, the dinner's on, I'm relaxing after a hard day's manual work and contemplating whether I can drink tea without it dribbling down the side of my face. The wife is talking about something and suddenly I notice that the white noise is slightly different to usual.

Its running water from under the kitchen sink. Kinell! I sprint to the utility room where the stop tap is. I'm presented with the wife's latest solution to store the mountain of garden furniture cushions, which is to ram it between my 'settling homebrew stack and the tap.

I yank the cushions out of the way muttering something unrepeatable and, with the benefit of hindsight, momentarily forget my wife's other little charm, which is to pay no heed to electricL cable routing. So as I crouch down to turn the tap, my skull is met first by the handheld Dyson that was charging 5' above me on a shelf and then by a bottle of homebrew from the same shelf, which promptly burst and sprayed its contents all around the room.

Instead of supping tea and eating my dinner I'm now sat in a flooded kitchen vaguely concussed, covered in blood and stinking of beer. Its not even Friday night ffs!
Click to expand...
It can only get better... can't it?
 

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