Three shades of blue weekend

Let's see, a bank holiday weekend; three days off work; that must mean ... ooh, I remember, decorating.

And we decorated good.

• Three rolls of vinyl purchased for the floors of three various rooms (thank you, Vampire Plagues royalty cheque).
• The Boy's bedroom-to-be done out in different shades of blue, as per the specifications of the future occupant, which combine when you're cleaning the brushes into a tint that gives your fingernails a fascinating cyanotic hue.
• Carpet removed from the Boy's bedroom and taken to the dump, on the grounds of, why not? We're on a roll!
• Hoover motor burned out siphoning up the resulting dust.
• Everything, and I mean everything, yes EVERYTHING, from the three rooms to be vinyled moved into said Boy's bedroom-to-be.

Him: "Why do we have to use my room?
Me: "Because it's empty."
Him: "Why not your room?"
Me: "Because I'm sleeping in it."
Him: "Why didn't we decorate my room first?" [Pause] "Oh, because then you'd have nowhere to sleep ..."

He generally gets there if you give him time.

• And finally, the bathroom floor taken up: "It's the happiest day of my life", the Boy quavered with a tear in his eye, as he set to with a crowbar. The floor was fairly tatty cork tiles, glued to a plywood underlay which had previously been nailed down - probably with a nail gun of the Kalashnikov variety set to "fully automatic and then some". The plywood came up, the approx. half a billion nails stayed down and had to be removed one by one by one by one by ... and so on.

So, three days well spent.

On the way to the dump, I was told "you should definitely blog that." Unfortunately that's all I remember of the conversation. But I'm sure it was good, whatever it was.