Before all of that though it's time to help them decorate.
In theory this is a simple project, designed and supervised by Mum in a series of relocating wicker chairs.
The sofa and two armchairs are at the upholsterers, the dresser is in the middle of the room and there's newspaper taped across the windowsills. The master plan is to paint the ceiling, sand the skirting boards and door frames, paint the walls (the same colour they already are) and then gloss the woodwork.
Then, out goes the old carpet, in comes the new, just before the freshly spruced sofas and chairs return.
I volunteered to bring my extending pole round and do the ceiling.
The Niblings were there when I arrived, so naturally the extending pole was a light sabre for a while. Then, when they'd gone and the living room was no longer the Death Star, I was up steps flicking white paint around the room, over my glasses, and into my hair.
I'm very grateful they're changing the carpet.
You know how something is likely to be stressful and difficult long before it starts, but you have to go along and manage it anyway? It felt a bit like that. However, they did need me there in the end and I'm glad I went.
At least for the first hour or so. I got halfway across the ceiling and they made me stop it because I was making 'peculiar noises'.
My reflexes work though. Later, my Mum knocked a cactus off the coffee table and I caught it like a ninja.
I then leapt around the room, shaking my hand from my wrist. I wouldn't have minded but that was the second day in a row I've had to touch a cactus.
"Why does anyone have them?" I asked my Mum on the way to get the dustpan and brush. "What do they do?"
She said that my Dad likes them.
I got down on my hands and knees and started sweeping the soil from the carpet that is about to be replaced.
It'll all be alright when it's finished, I thought.
The sofa and two armchairs are at the upholsterers, the dresser is in the middle of the room and there's newspaper taped across the windowsills. The master plan is to paint the ceiling, sand the skirting boards and door frames, paint the walls (the same colour they already are) and then gloss the woodwork.
Then, out goes the old carpet, in comes the new, just before the freshly spruced sofas and chairs return.
I volunteered to bring my extending pole round and do the ceiling.
The Niblings were there when I arrived, so naturally the extending pole was a light sabre for a while. Then, when they'd gone and the living room was no longer the Death Star, I was up steps flicking white paint around the room, over my glasses, and into my hair.
I'm very grateful they're changing the carpet.
You know how something is likely to be stressful and difficult long before it starts, but you have to go along and manage it anyway? It felt a bit like that. However, they did need me there in the end and I'm glad I went.
At least for the first hour or so. I got halfway across the ceiling and they made me stop it because I was making 'peculiar noises'.
My reflexes work though. Later, my Mum knocked a cactus off the coffee table and I caught it like a ninja.
I then leapt around the room, shaking my hand from my wrist. I wouldn't have minded but that was the second day in a row I've had to touch a cactus.
"Why does anyone have them?" I asked my Mum on the way to get the dustpan and brush. "What do they do?"
She said that my Dad likes them.
I got down on my hands and knees and started sweeping the soil from the carpet that is about to be replaced.
It'll all be alright when it's finished, I thought.
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