I have a toddler.
This is my toddler. He's a bit sleepy.
See, I've got tradies in at the moment. They're replacing the window sashes in the flat as by rights, the glass should have fallen out of half of them in some of the breezes we're had lately.
This overdue work is being done by my lovely tradies, Craig and Michael. Craig's been sorting things our around here for years. His painter mate Michael is a lovely man too. They don't mind coming here as I make sure that cups of tea, water and access to the loo is no problem. Over the day, they traipse in and out, get stuff done, sand a bit here, paint a bit there. They're coming back in to paint the interior window frames while I'm in Europe.
So far they're replaced two out of the three sashes. Tomorrow, I'm moving my work desk into the spare room and working in there while they replace the sash in the window which I sit next to.
They're no trouble. They clean up after themselves. We get to have a chat now and then. It's all good.
The only person with this nose out of joint is the toddler, also known as the cat, also known as Lucifer.
Normally, Lucifer's day starts by annoying me as I try to get working in the morning. He demands treats, sits on the keyboard, scratches at my legs. Around lunchtime, he takes himself off to bed and sleeps all afternoon, getting up for dinner around five p.m. After that, there's a bit of in and out, until he goes for another sleep. Then during the night, he quietly claims the place for himself.
However, with the tradies in place, he's been sticking to my side with glue. If he meets one of the guys, he gives them the death stare before going to hide somewhere.
Or he sits at my side in the windowsill and scowls. Or he curls around my legs begging for the blokes to go away.
He's just a toddler.
It's very cute.
They'll finish the last window tomorrow. I keep telling him that, but he doesn't understand. Far too much a creature of habit.
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