As it got to four o’clock this afternoon, I became increasingly grateful that I’d opted for an early morning booking for the boiler fitting and not one of the days where they wouldn’t be starting until noon.
He’d been at it since 9 in the morning. Nearly seven hours of boiler installation which, apparently, went really easily (which, I’ll be honest, surprised the crap out of me).
So I had seven hours to fill with things that were not gaming, just in case they needed to turn the power off for any of the install – I didn’t want to hold proceedings up by needing to get to a save point, or finish a level or whatever. I can’t imagine that going over well.
As it happens, though, they didn’t need to turn the power off at all. So I could have beaten something fair and square in the time that I was mooching about just doing bits and bobs.
One thing I wasn’t doing, though, was eating. Because I’d foolishly not thought ahead. Maybe, again foolishly, thinking it wouldn’t take seven hours to fit a boiler and that I’d be able to get in the kitchen by, say, just after one or something like that.
The bit red curtain that told me to STOP! and proceed no further without asking the engineer remained in place. I was not allowed in the kitchen at all because it was a place of danger. And also all the tea and coffee making facilities. And glasses. And taps to get water from.
Basically, I shafted myself six ways from Sunday by only concentrating on making sure there was space for the workman and not that there was a constant stream of snacks within my reach for the whole of the day.
Still, it’s very much worth it. The boiler is nice and quiet and provides hot water in the kitchen without sounding like it has an invasive lung disease. And we have a thermostat I can control without moving off my arse. And Carole will be able to too, which means that no longer will the walls of this house echo with “can you put the heating on?” or “can you turn the heating off?”
Happy days indeed.
Apart from the lack of food and drink throughout the whole day. That was a bit of a shitter.
Not to mention how pissing cold it was, as it hailed on and off and the gas man kept going out of the front and/or back door and leaving them wide open so all the cold air got in.
And he lit the gas fire which no-one has touched in the last twelve years (at least) so the house was filled with the smell of twelve years of dust, burning. Which was fricking awful. But at least the fire didn’t explode as I was almost sure it would.
So all in all…