Day 8 - 3 3 3

I perused several job sites. I found 3 pretty good-sounding jobs. I wrote 3 exquisite - or so I thought! - cover letters and sent off 3 applications!

Oh, it feels great! I have been humming what my fellow human beings would only describe as an atrociously annoying tune all morning. "I want to break free" by Queen. Except I can only remember the first part and there are lots of "La lala Laaaa laaaaaaaaaaaaa"s to fill in the blanks. Just as well most of our neighbours in this estate work most days (though I have to say, there seem to be a whole lot more cars around these last few months). The kitchen window faces into the back garden and there is only one house kind of overlooking us from that side, and as far as I know the couple who live there (O'Regan is their name, I think) are pretty much always out, I never see a light on. Not that I am watching. But one would notice, wouldn't one!
I pull down my blind 3/4 way, just to be safe, and then dance from pot on the stove to sink to drawer, then to the table and back to bubbling pot. When I have tired of the Laaa Laaaas (there is only so much of that I can take, myself!) I flick on the radio again and belt along to whatever is playing. It is only well into the third song that I realise my back window off the utility room has been open all this time. With a bit of luck no-one heard me!

Lunch is made and I still haven't had a call. Granted, it has only been 38 minutes, but I have kept my mobile in my pocket, just in case the agencies are queueing up to contact me, and it hasn't rung. Maybe it has switched itself off. I pull it out of my pocket. I didn't hear the message come in, it is from John:
C'mere, what are we doing about those tiles?

Arrghhhh! Just when my day was going so well! I go upstairs. I look at the mess that is our bathroom. I want to cry. With the door permanently closed, I had almost forgotten about it. Sniff. I need to get them sorted. I pick up one of the few tiles that has made it off the wall alive and brush off some of the black gunk. Yuck! It got on my finger and I shudder. What kind of evil stuff is this? I hear mould can be very bad for your health, so I race into the other bathroom and scrub it off.

I sit into the car. I have an hour before Emma's finished school. That means I can't go very far. There is a small tile shop just ten minutes from our house, I didn't think it was worth a look because the larger showrooms all have the better selection, and this place looks like the same display has been in the window for the last 4 years! Well, needs must, and time is tight - I will try anything at this stage. I throw the tile on the front seat, jump into the car (petrol is low!) and get on the road. I hope I will find some very reasonable, fantastically modern, funky tiles that match the rest of the bathroom seamlessly! So we can get this damn bathroom SORTED!