Last week went something like this. There were the best of plans and the most annoying attempts by life in general to sabotage those plans. (There was no prison, no evil French aristocrat and no guillotine though, so I shouldn't complain.)
Craft fair imminent. Loads of work at work. Me and my colleagues ill. Children behaving badly. Smell of gas when we turned the fire on. Whole of downstairs socket circuit blown at six in the morning on Monday. Loud recurring explosive noises from somewhere in the vicinity of the large shelves. Growing fear that we would be fried in our beds if the gas met the spark. Increasing necessity to switch off the electricity when we were in bed or out.
Phone call to British Gas. Threat from British Gas that The National Grid people would break our door down to turn off the gas if nobody was there to let them in. Panicked rush home from work at lunchtime to prevent said door from being assaulted. Gas off. Bowl baths.
Friday afternoon kind head teacher let me go home. Gas people didn't turn up. They were supposed to come between 12 and 6. Stressed Andy arrives home. I set off on dark foggy drive to the Midlands. The gas and electric people did eventually turn up on Saturday after many calls and texts back and forth. The boiler was fixed and the electric problem fixed.
Craft fair over I get home to find piles of stuff everywhere and have to face up to the fact that I am a massive hoarder and need to sort it out now before we are climbing over things to be able to do anything. We started with the books and managed to fill 7 large shopping bags. The shelves will have to go as the way I had piled them up with stuff was what caused the problem. The concrete floor under the laminate had cracked due to the weight and had broken the electric wire causing the explosions and fuse blowing. There is now a hole in the floor and two junction boxes but for now that can stay. The main task I have now is de-cluttering. It is now the following Saturday and I have made good progress. The flat is in the biggest mess but there is method to my madness and it will all hopefully be liveable again by tomorrow. Then I will plan the next part of the get cleared up campaign.
It is a far far better boiler than it has been for a while and it will soon be a far far tidier flat than it has ever been.
The moral of this story is that hoarding is dangerous. I think. Sorry Dickens.