Oh Lord, won't you buy me...

I think it'll be a while before we buy another Mercedes. We've not had much luck with them. Of course the more astute amongst you may wish to point out that we've not had much luck with any vehicles, and you would be right, but I feel we've scrapped more ancient Mercedes than any other kind of car.

Busy day back at the coalface today, after our weekend off (though I hardly feel we made the best of the break). Inevitably in a project like the MBH there have been times when Mr B and I have not seen eye to eye. Generally these have been sorted out by me bowing (ungraciously) to Mr B's superior knowledge, and then smiling smugly when proved right and sulking unhelpfully when proved wrong. However, on one issue we just agreed to differ.

Mr B hates dustsheets. Won't use them. We generally have wooden floors and 'they're going to be sanded anyway'.

I hate scraping and scrubbing paint and plaster off floors. And I always seem to have to clean them before sanding anyway.

This problem has always been solved by us using dustsheets when I have anything to do with it, and not when I don't. Whatever the case, it's always me who spends hours scrubbing the floor because (and I can put this here because Mr B did say it) I'm 'better at that kind of thing'. (As an aside I should add that as the kind of woman who is happy to say 'oh, would you mind putting the spider outside for me?' and 'oh would you just fix that?' with not a murmur from Mr B that maybe I should get up and do it myself since he just made the dinner... I'm not really in a position to complain. And I'm not really.)

Today was the final battleground, already the scene of many minor skirmishes. Our bedroom floor was part varnished (ie two coats) and then covered in a layer of plaster, glue, caulk, paint and gloss paint. Happily, Mr B joined in the cleaning process, I think even he realised that he would never hear the end of it if he didn't, and after a mere four hours of cleaning on our hands and knees... it was done. Ready for a final coat of varnish (yes, I know, it should have been done with the other coats like in the other rooms and yes, I did point that out at the time...)

Later, the scrap folk finally called to say they'd pick up the dead car, from our rented place. We headed up there and I waited for an hour or so while Mr B picked up the kids from school. When he finally arrived there was much comical activity where we tried to push the car into a better position, and finally some inovative towing round a corner, before the window smashing grab finally occured. And yes, I did have to pick up all that glass off the drive. And yes, Mr B did help.