Saturday - is bashing and crashing, hands thrown into the air as the kitchen is being dismantled somewhat. An emergency trip is taken to the retail park before closing time and get them to, please, give us the Correct Taps that Do Not Leak. I am staying out of the way while Mr T and My son in law, Mr Helpful, create a space in the kitchen for the sparkly dishwasher.
Monday - is hard earned pound notes being handed to the grinning man in the electric shop, overseen by the scruffy man who has come to pay his bill after spending some time in the pub. Evidenced by the foul beery breath he insists upon inserting into my breathing space, eeuk.
Thursday is D-Day - when I shall be happy that my dishwasher will be in the shop, and I can save the £25 delivery cost (to bring it the sixteen miles from the shop to my house) by collecting it - or rather advising Mr T that it would be good for me if he brings it home.
All is well and I may now stop sulking.