Well, we’ve been able to flush for about a week now – and last nights achievement even eclipsed the wonders of that! The shower that M has been working so hard on is wet, responsive and…. operational! (And only cold at this point, but still!!) All these blokes who know everything kept looking at us oddly when we would tell them that M was making the shower out of wood, fibreglass and epoxy – it seems that up in Hervey Bay it’s Lamipanel, a pre-molded cubicle or nothing. I got similarly weird looks when I kept explaining that a tile would only find entry to our bathroom over my dead, still warm body. Tiles suck. I don’t care about the invention of grout pens, they just suck.
So our shower is huge, wooden, and when it’s totally finished I am going to be shameless and post a picture of it here. Last night was a grand night out at (get this) M’s mothers, next door neighbours, daughters house-warming. She lives two houses away from us – the average age level was hovering around the 70-year point and I felt quite odd. I became more and more desperate to run from the house as conversations continued around me and I became encreasingly aware that I had barely any fingernails left to chew off and that my fave show had started five minutes previously *sigh*. M consoled himself with liberal doses of rum (supplied by the excellent neighbours who gave us the freezer) until me kicking him the leg (i.e begging to excape) finally had the desired effect.
We are very short on people like ourselves up here and find ourselves toning down our our more quirky ideas and biting our tongues when people opinionate at us. It’s all to do with different cultures and different age-groups. Put it this way – I was totally gobsmacked to walk into a cafe today and find Aimee Mann playing.