Moar housework

Astrid fell down the stairs this morning but is fine; she was up and walking around by the time I met her.

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All change please, all change

I've been measuring again. Beds, wardrobes. We're moving everyone around and until we can buy new we need to fit everything in the same space only different.

So I've figured out that the old John Lewis wardrobe will fit just inside the front bedroom door, then the found-at-the-roadside 30s style one, then the single bed which will extend under the window.

The bunkbeds will go on the wall opposite the windows, with some sort of shelving in the alcove at their heads.

The three-door wardrobe will stay where it is.

So in that room we need to start by painting the wall next to the noisy neighbour, then laying hardboard and cork tiles in that space, then moving the wardrobes back onto the freshly laid floor, then painting the wall opposite the windows, then moving the big wardrobe and doing the other two walls, then finishing the floor and moving the big wardrobe back. Easy peasy.

Oh jiminy.

Plaster dust: the end is in sight

We can see the end of the job. We have just been upstairs cleaning up the plasterdust from Rob's epic belt sander adventure of the weekend, and it's almost done. Or almost done enough to paint the undercoat, anyway.

I have an order almost ready to place for hardboard and cork tiles for the front bedroom, and we might even get that started this weekend. If we're lucky and hardworking we might get the back bedroom painted by Saturday morning, and can move our bed in. The back bedroom has had nothing done to it until this year, since we moved in ten years ago, and so it needed more than any of the other spaces.

I really do hope we can have started to lay the floor in the front bedroom before the end of the weekend. I can't justify my coat tree project until the bedroom-moving projects are done, it turns out, so I want them over with. Plus they have to be done so that we can have my mother here for Christmas. And so that I can sleep in a room without a baby in it, at least sometimes, for part of some nights. I'm ready for that now that she's well past a year old.

Not that I'm after a whole night's sleep, you understand. Just a few hours unbroken.

Pinterest is dangerous business, by the way.