My obsession with buying wooden kitchen chairs has come to an end. At precisely 8.30am on Bank Holiday Monday, I realised that I just couldn't be bothered hoking and poking around in all those little straight bits and pieces and the arching backs with a little paintbrush. It's taken me roughly 25 minutes per coat, per chair; three different paintbrushes for the three colours (I can't be bothered to wash and dry brushes between colours); a six hour wait between coats with three paintbrushes wrapped in clingfilm (I can't be bothered to wash and dry brushes between coats); and a visit from an odd neighbour (let's call him Santa's Little Munchkin) who insisted on chatting to me whilst I finished off the second coats. That I had my back to him for most of his visit was rudeness itself on my part, for which I was punished when I finally stood up and turned around to see him absent-mindedly scraping dog poo off the underside of his shoe over my Moroccan mint bed.
I'm planning to invite him round for mint tea.
Or kill him.
I don't think that's a figure of speech; it's an actual threat to kill.
And I have nearly 200 pumpkin and squash plants to shift by next week.