I confess I am more than a little addicted to the internet – well you have to be a little bit internet crazy to be a blogger in the first place, wouldn’t you?
With C’s denouncement of BTB ringing in my ears, I took the next appropriate action and logged our bathroom job online. I put the job on last night at midnight and this morning found I’d had 18 responses.
With military precision (checking out the ones with the nicest pictures on their sites) I shifted through the respondees’ profile, references and accredition, before narrowing them down to a magnificent seven, the first of which is due to inspect the bathroom tomorrow.
“Maybe you’ll find your very own Mr Handy”, said C, when I told him. “Who knows he might actually show up in a white van !”
“Or maybe we’ll just find another Bilbo” I said shrugging my shoulders. I have always lamented not knowing enough men who were good with their hands – I mean DIY skills.
When I was growing up, I thought it was great that rather than get a man in to do a job in the house, my Dad seemed to have the magical ability to fix anything from my first truck (a distant relative was convinced that I was a boy), to ensure that my Sindy doll’s head stayed firmly attached to her neck, despite my best efforts!
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