Life at the moment is all about adaptation. The plan today was to pack this morning until 11 when Milo was to go to kinder, and then head off with a carload to The House at Porter Street. I am all expectation that the whole place is going to smell fresh and deodorised (and significantly better) now the expanses of carpet have been steam cleaned.
While enjoying the altered olfactory experience, I was also intending to put screw J into hole B and erect my new bed - delivered on Wednesday while screen door man, Peter, was talking my ear off about the benefits of galvanised steel mesh versus polyethylene.
Milo, however, has thrown a cat amongst the pigeons, by waking with high spirits, but "a sore swallow" and elevated temperature. So now a rethink is in order. I'm not sure I'm going to be able to get the bed happening if Milo is there "helping".
The man at Bedshed said if I can put together Ikea, there will have no problems with the bed. But I took one look at the instruction while unpacking the THREE flatpack boxes on Wednesday evening and knew immediately the man was (and possibly remains) a lying swine.
The process is going to require complete silence and the apex of concentration. Possibly the support of an extra pair of hands but absolutely no other sensory input.
Is this going to be possible with a four year old present? Certainly not. But therein lies the unexpected challenge of the day.
Mental note: Enjoy the process.
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