Moving on

My flat seems to have developed it's own particular equilibrium. I've been close enough to it over the last few months (too close!) that I should have probably realised this sooner. Things go wrong, then things go right. And vice versa and so on, etcetera, etcetera. Today's disaster is tomorrow's distant memory. The tiles were sorted out today - the manager provided a sympathetic ear as I regaled her with my woes. In an unexpected turn of symmetry she also regaled me with hers - in the midst of some home improvements herself she's also have problems with a tiler. Whether because of that or no, she agreed to allow me to return my previous purchase in favour of something new - subject to a restocking fee, but I shan't complain. I may even have found someone to buy the tiles from me instead - I'll find that out tomorrow, but it feels good that such options are suddenly blooming around me. The end result is stretching increasingly far from my original conception, but it's still in the right neighbourhood. The new tiles are scheduled to make an appearance a week from today. The tiler tried to curry favour by saying that he'd be able to start that very day, so I've decided to give him one last chance. He's by no means my favourite person in the world, but right now I'm placing expediency over whatever grudge I may hold against him.

Even my radiators turned up today after seemingly vanishing off the face of the earth for a few weeks. This was to have been my final delivery - cause for celebration after the troubles I've had getting things delivered, but that honour is now reserved for the final batch of tiles. I'd been expecting a few more upsets before the flat was finished and I received more than I'd bargained for in that regards. Still, I have a strange feeling in the pit of my stomach that the worst is now behind me and that I'm in for a bout of smooth sailing. I'm certainly due for one.

Touch wood....