do not touch my dome {renov # 7}

{previously}

la ninja, yo ! and thanks for the walking boots, honey, they got me walking alright! today i also stared at safety boots all day, from the second, the first and the ground floor in the new, old house. i am even temporarily mesmerized by safety walking boots, as worn by connoisseurs! 

 

l. turned up early and we took rides to and fro’ to the recycle park. 

 

the sparks sparking on that … anyway, in between sun and rain and laughter and pain, a small anecdote unfolded. the one where a hysteric voice suddenly screeches ‘don’t touch my dome!’. 

 

the last return from the recycle park did turn sour indeed.in my absence my sweet contractors got verbally abused by my (too close to be good) next door neighbour, for soiling her flat roof with tiny debris and dust in the wind. 

 

moreover, her dome would scratch from flying chips and (unassuming particles of) brick. that wasn’t all. she continued to verbally shoot me down on the pavement, in the presence of son and l. and both contractors, and her husband, and her father-in-law who sprang from nowhere, ‘who knew so much better than me...!’. ahem. 

 

well, from shock towards a solution was needed. to usher one hazy culprit i urged the husband inside my house and pushed him toward debating further in a less agitated way. some husbands do have them, i'll say?

 

i guess, when renovating, you win some, you lose some. the winner today? my sweet, handsome, sturdy, muscular contractors. the loser? yeah, well, she had it coming. this one's out for a drink, you know? and cheers!