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Norwegian Wood
9 comments
Can I say I know you? Everyone is more famous than me!
Ah but you make and play guitars. I think that trumps getting a mention in the cricket commentary.
Mind you, I’ve submitted a picture of my mantelpiece to the Guardian’s call for photos on this theme, so I might have nudged back ahead in a day or two, if they decide to publish the picture.
Well, then, don’t do a half-job, for cryin’ out loud.
If it were something that I cared about, that I was interested in, or had any ability to do properly, I would. But no, it’s a purely economic exchange, of a form of labour I detest.
Can’t you simply put your nausea aside and do a good job of it? You don’t have to care about the work. Think of all the good that will come from that and all the ill will that will result from a half-assed effort.
You’re right, although I think farming out scraping, sanding, smoothing, priming, undercoatng, anti-knotting, overcoating, and repainting the very difficult-to-get-to windows, to your tenants, is a bit stingy. It’s not going to be an easy job for me, and Seriouscrush and boyf are awash on tides of money. They shouldn’t be asking me to do the job.
Can’t you sub-contract the painting job to the bastard who’s even further behind than you?
It’s funny how lust erodes into like and then further drifts into a mild fondness,
I could do, but financially, it works out best if I do the blasted job, then I can clear my arrears. Never mind, I’ve got a bit of a reprieve for a few days as it’s goin g to rain again so can’t do it in the wet.
It’d never have gone anywhere with Seriouscrush. She’d deny this, but I was the exciting bit of exotic rouhg from a class she doens’t normally associate with; in the long run, she wants a man with prospects.
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