Itchy and scratchy...

Monday 1 September 2015

Cool and showery 24 degrees

Slept well, despite feet being bitten to pieces by bugs in the rug downstairs and a massive mosquito bite on my derrière.  Woke to find my ankles really swollen and skin mottled with big red welts.  Put on lots of bite ease, on with the motley and down town to meet a colleague and go and see a house for yesterday's people.  He drove eccentrically, steering with his knees, waving his hands in the air and spending some time with a hand tucked inside his seat belt.

We had missed the worst of the storm in our valley but, as we approached the outskirts of the town where stood the house, the roads became more and more covered with leaves, sticks and mashed up tree bits.  It took a long time so I suggested we went for coffee before we saw the house.  Had two coffees and he told me lots of stories.  What I really wanted to find out was about the various new houses he had brought to market and if he had any clients knocking about who would be interested in seeing any of my housing stock.  Didn't find out any of that.  After an hour, we set off again along roads that got narrower and narrower and more and more debris filled until, rounding a corner, a huge fallen tree blocked the road.  Its snapped bowl snagged like dragon tooths in our direction.  No passaran...

We went to see the neighbour and he said he had spent the morning clearing the road back from his house to the main carriageway.  He said they had to spent the evening trying to eat and read by candle light.  People who pay to eat by candle light must be mad!  Was his parting shot as he headed off again, saying he would give us a ring when the pompiers (firemen) had been to clear the rest of the road.

We drive back and it seems a long journey and my colleague rambles on about more stories but I am more taken up with the fact that I have just got a text from the sellers of the contemporary house and they are back from holiday tomorrow.  Get home and ring their buyers and they don't answer.  Ring anglo french law company and get the secretary and she says she thinks 'someone is working on it' and they will ring me back.  Get very wound up and realise that my psoriasis is back with a vengeance and is all over my arm and some of my leg.  OH says he doesn't know what I am wound up about.  It is alright for him.  He is not the one carrying the weight of people's expectations.  He isn't the one they are ringing up saying when will something happen, what can we do.  He isn't the one people get really pissed off with and then turn nasty.  He doesn't lose any sleep.  He says it really annoys him when I get wound up over things.  We have a lot of words and I go upstairs and bang the door on my craft room and spend two hours crafting and when I come down, he is still sitting on his bum and the kitchen is a terrible mess, as is the rest of the house, so I go out for a walk.  Get back, have a bath and go to bed.  Find psoriasis creme and spread it about liberally.