We're having a bunch of rotten weatherboards replaced on the Purple Palace's exterior, a move preparatory to having it painted. Purple no more. We'll likely go with a grey with white trim and a black-ish front door which is terribly boring and predictable, isn't it? Well, I am terribly boring and predictable and only occasionally am bothered by that fact. Still, there'll be a little purple nostaglia I think, when the first coat goes on, hiding the lavender glory (mauve magnificence?).
The builders are also replacing the small window in our bedroom and the front door, the current one having a crack so large I can see daylight through it. I think they've sourced replacements via TradeMe (NZ's answer to Ebay or Gumtree or something). A mysterious door is sitting outside the house and I hope they haven't spent too much on it because it's got ugly missized panels. We asked for a door with a window, to let light into the hall. It's all a bit mickey mouse (although, we are paying GST on this one at least, unlike another guy who quoted as a cash job and told me that you can roll a turd in glitter, but it's still a turd. Amazing.)
I went home from work sick yesterday and holed up in the spare bedroom. The builder has hired his son as a labourer over son's university holidays. They were blasting George FM and the son was educating his dad on the finer points regarding electronica. Dad didn't have much to contribute, but it seemed like good family bonding, to me. Tabitha sat on the bed with me, unperturbed by the noise. We had a nap. Good family bonding, too.