Nothing ever seems to be easy for me jonnieb. Even simple things can turn into a nightmare for me,
Take this afternoon for example.
I thought i should clean the bike, which has accumulated a layer of dust and mud due to the atrocious road maintenance in Patong.
I live in an apartment built into the hillside and involves walking down 40 steps to the front door. Conversely 40 steps to get back to road level, so a bit of planning goes into a task like cleaning the bike, in order to avoid keep traipsing up and down'
I decide to use an old shirt as the cleaning rag. While pulling the shirt out of the wardrobe clumsily, a whole pile of shirts come with it and land in an untidy heap on the floor.
I hastily put them back and head for the door.As i pull, the handle comes away.
Sigh. Get the screwdriver and spend 5 minutes fixing it.
As i put the screwdriver away in the cupboard under the sink i notice a dripping from the pipe joints.
Deep sigh. As i separate the pipes, a torrent of filthy water engulfs my hands and forearms. Loud curse. I spend 10 minutes mopping up, and another 10 minutes lying upside down on my back joining the 2 ruddy pipes. This leaves me dizzy. Ive also grazed my knuckles somehow and wipe the blood off onto the old shirt.
As i finally exit, thinking fukkit i haven't even started cleaning the bloody bike yet!
I trip over a cat. More blood from the knuckles. " FFS", i cuss.
At the top i turn on the hose to give the bike a douse and notice some cunt has moved the extension downstairs. So now the hose won't reach the bike.
I;m not going all the way down to get it and try to move the bike nearer to the hose. The footrest grazes my leg.
I mop the blood with the old shirt.
As i wipe the water off the bike, my own blood smears across the paintwork.
Oh for heavens sake!
In a fury i stomp back downstairs. Kick the cat out of the way, and return for another old shirt.
Once again the pile drops on the floor. I leave them there. Can't be arsed now.
I try to take the steps back up, two at a time and bash my grazed leg.
My yelps scared off the other cat that was probably going to trip me up again.
I take care to bandage my leg with my handkerchief rather than use the old shirt.
Finally wipe down the bike and return to an armchair reflecting that this simple little job has taken a full hour, cost me 2 shirts, grazed knuckles, and a cut leg.
"Herding the cats" tonight will seem a doddle.
