When we had the new front door fitted, the builders had to remove a telephone cable, and left stray wires dangling in various places in the hallway. After finally tiring of trapping the assorted cables in the new front door, I got round to moving it last night, thus proving that, if I wanted, I'd be quite an adept telecomms engineer. What's more, the telephone and broadband still work. Then I put up various shelves and went on a major hunt for my mp3 player's charger. This involved rooting through lots of M's bags and was, thus, a rather exciting couple of hours. Surprisingly, I found the charger. Earlier last night, I had unblocked our second (decadent, I know) toilet, which I had blocked up at the weekend by dropping one of those toilet fresheners in there and, like a fool, flushing it. The 'blockage' had been compounded by lots of faeces and toilet roll and the water levels had risen to dangerous levels that could have flooded the whole of Hull and left us all awash in detritus. So, I had to get in there. Me, a wire coat hanger and brute force. I wore gloves throughout, just in case you're contemplating how to react should you meet me in the street and I offer you a hand.
Listening: Be Your Own Pet - Electric Shake
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