Friday, 24 May 2013
A new front door is on its way (please let it fit)
It’s pouring, freezing cold and a builder I’d rather not see, ever again, is massacring my front door. Noise, dust, irritation, bits of wood with nails sticking through them, all over the hall. I will be SO glad when he's finished and I never have to see him again.
I’m going out at 12. I’m having that session with the NLP man. I booked it knowing the builder would be here, hat way my ex can oversee the work and I won’t be bullied into paying the balance until I’m happy. I could try to work this morning but I didn’t. Instead I’ve been sorting out the office. When I moved here, I was working in a different room so everything’s been in the wrong place. Now I have some decent bookcases, I can move the books downstairs, etc etc.
I’ve just been interrupted, again. Despite taking £600 he said was the deposit for the door, I’ve just had to write a cheque for the people who have made it or they wouldn’t deliver it. Basically, he lied to me. The thing I hate most in all the world is dishonesty. I stood firm. So now the builder has to get me my £600 back, in cash, then I’ll pay him when everything's done, to my satisfaction.