Plug plug plug

Just to start off with a shameless plug, I've finally gotten round to doing another post over on Mental Nurse. It's about acute wards. I was drunk when I wrote it, but I think that just made me more honest...

The rest of the post is going to be me whinging about my life, so if you were hoping for something more mental health based then I'd run away now.

Ok, so the boiler that was going to take three days to install is now at a week and counting. Apparently our system was more complicated than it should have been. What a freaking surprise. I'm pretty sure the bloke who built the house was wasted on laudanum or something. So we have no hot water but an abundance of dust. At least my hacking cough (solder fumes) and sneezing fits (frickin dust has impregnated my clothes) mean people are keeping their distance from me in public. Coming home after work has never been so depressing, and we still need to get a roofer to fix the hole in the roof the plumber made by sticking a flue through it, and an electrician to wire the boiler into the mains. Mr Door is at breaking point and I'm somewhat worried he might be about to go on a rampage, if he doesn't have a heart attack first. He has just had a huge shouting and bawling rant because the plumber appears to have stolen our mop bucket. He's now planning to hold the plumbers stepladders hostage until he returns the bucket. The bucket cost £1.99.

The plumber has also been bringing a 13 year old lad along with him (a family friend, apparently) to let him learn the trade and keep him out from under his mothers feet during the holidays. The child is very strange; spookily polite to me and Mr Door, but very blokey with the plumber. He also sings to himself quite a lot and is usually weilding some sort of power tool. On Friday I came home and found the kid firing up a blow torch in my living room. I've never been so scared in my life.

As mental health professionals, we have of course been finding appropriate outlets for our stress. Namely, drinking and shopping. We've found that drinking so much that everything goes blurry makes the house look less disgusingly dirty. And shopping is just the answer to everything. Thanks to the wonders of the internet, it is now also easy to combine the two and shop whilst drunk. I've found myself buying some of the books I enjoyed as a kid...am sure there's something to be read into there regarding regressing to a happier, less responsible time. I've never needed escapism so badly.

On the bright side, only two weeks of placement left, then I have three weeks off...to decorate...and do an assignment...and go and earn some money to pay off the plumber....hmm.

Donations of vodka greatly appreciated.