Somebody get me a gun.....

I've said that for years, every time I get upset by someone. You can imagine how often I've said it since I've lived here: practically every other sentence!! Of course, if someone did actually give me a gun, I would probably fall over while shooting myself in the foot. So much for a gun.

So who pissed me off this time? The same people who pissed me off the last time: the builders. Are they finished? Hell, no - they have to make a return visit after New Year's - oh lucky me. I'm amazed that no walls have fallen down. Yet. Who knows what will happen while they are hiding wherever it is they're hiding?

Now, here is the thing. My kitchen measures a measly 8 feet from wall to wall, not from cabinet to cabinet. On the other side it measures-maybe 8 feet, but certainly no more than that. And the major work was done on the first day. The wall cabinets that needed replacing were done, the electric socket moved, two cupboards and the washing machine were moved...all the rest was supposed to be simple painting, some filling in of holes,stuff that could have -and should have - been completely finished in less than a week. But that is assuming the workmen were competent. We are talking about Mulalley, after all.

Since this is Christmas Day-and it has taken a long time for me to actually unpack the computer, set it up, and clean all the places that were covered (but still ended up covered in dust. Including my lungs)-here is a question for you. And I will get a little biblical (after all, it is Christmas. Get biblical).

If creation took only six days, how is it that the workmen couldn't paint one ceiling and three (part) walls, and do the bits of decorating-in two full weeks? Two weeks? And still not finished. A chimpanzee with a paintbrush and a screwdriver could have finished in three days. Obviously Mulalley should have hired chimps. One "painter" was supposed to paint the doorframe, then return to do the ceiling and walls. It took him two and a half hours to paint a simple doorframe-then he disappeared, not to be seen again for a week. Must be the effect I have on idiots.

It has all been about the bloody kitchen. This has been going on for nine and a half months, since they first ripped out the old kitchen. I could have had a baby in that time. You could have had a baby in that time. We all could have had a football team in that time. Personally, I would rather have a kitchen...

So that has been my November/December from Hell. And all the hospital stuff finished on Tuesday, so I am free to try to put my apartment back to normal now. Or, normal-ish.

So it is Christmas, and I meant to wish you all a very Merry Christmas (and Happy New Year, but I will post before that-if Firefox will allow me to get online. Firefox is crap). I will shortly be on my way to stuff my face, so I would like to share my Christmas rules (I do Christmas rules. How anal of me) with you.

First, eat as much as you can of everything you like-as long as it isn't nailed down or on someone else's plate. Feel free to nick it from anyone else's plate-but only if you are bigger than they are and can run faster. Eat. Stuff your face. Calories don't count at Christmas (Rita's rule number One: calories don't count from Christmas Eve to New Year's Day. Once it's January 1st, you are out of luck).

Drink even more (Rule Number 2). Studies (whose? Probably some alcoholic) have shown that women can drink two glasses of wine daily, and two glasses will extend life. Or maybe, it'll feel like life (ever have a hangover?). So it stands to reason that if you don't drink between now and New Year's Eve, you can save up all those glasses and have them all at once...Makes sense to me!! That is two glasses for women, and -is it four?-glasses for men. Boy, am I giving you leeway. And a serious hangover next week.

Rule number 3: everyone lies at Christmas. We lie when we look at a dinner that looks like it will give us food poisoning for the next week. Do we eat it? If we don't want to hurt someone else's feelings. My take on that: tell the cook you are getting over a stomach virus. Eat little bits of vegetables (you would think that nobody could ruin vegetables. If that is what you think, you haven't been to Britain. You name it, they wreck it). Drink wine, unless it is cheap and noxious-then stick to water. Get out of there as quickly as you can and go for a pizza. At least your stomach won't be exploding.

Speaking of lying: women will always ask if their behind looks big in this-usually when "this" is an outfit that is six sizes too small. If you want to live to next Christmas-if you want to live to tomorrow!!- men, you just lie. Say that the color doesn't bring out her eyes, or whatever you need to say-but NEVER tell her that her backend looks the size of the Queen Mary. Unless you can run fast and duck at the same time.

Ghastly presents: thank goodness for charity shops. Wear a mask so you aren't embarrassed to go and give those striped nylon naff socks from Primark. Ewww...or your credibility will be nil.

Oh, and rule number 4: obviously, don't drink and drive. No shit-obvious, yes? Get someone to be sober and the driver, and promise that next year you will be the driver. Of course, you're lying (see rule number 3)- but by next year, who will remember?

So that is it for now. I'm going to have a dinner with friends-and put the noxious workmen behind me. Would I shoot them, really? Nah-too messy, illegal-and pretty much antisocial. I wouldn't mind gelding them, though. I think that would be an improvement. In fact, I would be perfectly happy to sit back, have a glass of good wine, and watch them all spontaneously combust.

So I will post again when Christmas is finished - if nobody has beaten me for nicking their food, of course. I'm not as fast as I used to be-but I am getting really, really good with my stick!!