November the first. Excluding today, that's six more days until the air con is installed.
Two more days (hopefully) until we have a door. If Beloved is that busy, I'm going to make a pilgrimage to Bunnings and firkin pick one that suits my aesthetics and damn the torpedoes.
It's going to be a rough six days, I can tell you. It's already hit 26 degrees in my office [80 degrees Fahrenheit] and it's not even eight in the morning, yet.
I am already harbouring affections for doing today's work in the air conditioned bedroom. But it's also a cleaning day, so I won't be able to do all my work there. Pity. The only upside to that is that there's not much worth cleaning, so... yay-ish?
Mayhem officially has Lurgi and should be over it for his last-day-at-traineeship-for-realsies-this-time-he-promises. Last week was meant to be ten minutes. This week is meant to be ten minutes. If this goes on, I shall suspect I'm entering some kind of Millennial Gothic.
As the temperature climbs steadily towards the 30 celcius mark [just under 90F for you Imperial folks] I am going to simultaneously watch for Miss Chaos' bus and do more work on Yes, Chef! and maybe troll for more beta readers.
I also need to ask MeMum what she would appreciate for her birthmas. I know I can't afford what Beloved wants, and neither can Beloved, so... sigh.
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