Saturday, 27 February 2010

Dad changed the blinds in the bathroom this morning. It was yet another in a long list of fine examples of how to make a really straightforward task seem very hard. There was a lot of huffing and puffing, some exasperated cries, sweat, and it turned into an argument pretty quickly. I was getting frustrated as he kept on insisting that it wasn't right. It's a roll-up blind in the bathroom fer fuck sake! How could it possibly be wrong?? Practically everything is done for you, you just cut it to size and whack that shit up. It killed me. I think the problem was that he was mixing and matching parts from the new blinds and the old (& completely different) blinds; a pole here, a bracket there.

The crazy thing that gets me everytime is that he'll insist, without fail and with no trace of irony, that "if you're going to do it, you've got to do it properly" and then proceed to do virtually nothing properly. But to be fair on him, he does get things done... even if that means it's a nightmare for anyone unfortunate enough to be in the general area when he's doing them. Heh, and you'll always get roped in at the most inconvenient times. I mean, this tea doesn't drink itself. Anyhow, he was finding fault in everything. It lasted an age. I couldn't understand it. It was like he was convinced that somebody would refuse to use the toilet one day on account of the blind hanging a whopping 1mm too low on the left. In protest they'd do their business in the bathtub and be done with it.

Nice blinds, mind.

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