Deafproofing my new flat

Today, is Monday...

Boo Hiss!

I wish it was the weekend already again, mostly so I could sleep and erm... sleep.

I've been really exhausted lately and not for any obvious reason either. I've never been a big fan of sleep but recently I find myself almost craving it.

This morning, as I write this on my bus journey to work, I just want to lie down on the seats and snooze, except I can't because it's full. How inconvenient!

Anyway, what is making me smile this week is my Digital Hard Drive thingymajig that The Rents gave me for Christmas. The idea that I can record stuff with the subtitles is AMAZING to me, and the novelty has yet to wear off.

Right now, I swear I get as much enjoyment pressing record as I do watching the stuff. In all honesty, I don't really have time to watch the stuff, but who cares... I have programmes recorded with subtitles on my Digital Hard Drive thingymajig.

It’s making me wonder why on earth I waited so long to buy one.

On another positive note, I've also set the wheels in motion to sorting out a flashing fire alarm for my flat. After the incident at my last place when my drunken neighbours set fire to their kitchen, I’m taking no chances and right now, my piddly smoke alarm would be wasted on me.

I’ve been looking at all the ones available and have decided I want one that involves the least drilling – as I’m still not very good at that. Having said that, this weekend I did have a DIY lesson with Blanco on how to plane doors – although I didn’t actually volunteer to do anything more complicated than hold the doors and swish them backwards and forwards in amazement once they were done.

Don’t get me wrong, I like the idea of DIY – but I’m not always very good at it. Take the drilling for instance. When I first inherited London Uncle’s electric drill, I excitedly attempted to put up a curtain pole above my window. I pressed the drill button and the force almost knocked me off the step ladder, and then the drill proceeded to bounce it’s way across the wall, me in tow, making dent after dent, until I eventually engaged my brain and let go of the power button.

*blush

Then, take the time the washing machine stopped working properly. It wouldn’t drain, so when it went into a spin cycle, it sounded like there was a small person in there fighting to get out.

So I took it apart… and flooded the kitchen, three times in the process of trying to put it back together again.

The list actually goes on, but I’m going to stop there… for now.

I’ve actually emailed London Fire Brigade to see if they’ll come and fit my alarm, as I’ve read that sometimes they do.

Of course this has nothing to do with an big red fire engine of burly men turning up at my flat, or the uniform… or

Right, time to stop talking I think!