The saga of the electricity meter is ongoing. Friday brought some good news, when a very nice man came and fitted a meter for us. However, with all the best sagas, it turns out that he has fitted it in the wrong place. Either that or it will be impossible to read. It is on the wall that borders our neighbours’ property and unless the man who has to read it wants to crawl behind a meter on someone else’s land to read our meter, it isn’t going to be able to stay where it is. Having actually had it installed, at least we have something to negotiate with now.
My Mistress has begun the countdown to moving house. She has started to plan. In the past the rest of the family thought her planning was excessive but have since discovered that it actually makes things run smoothly. They now pat her on the head and try to cooperate. It is very hard when you aren’t actually in a house to have to make decisions on which room things will go in. At least it means we don’t live in chaos when we actually arrive somewhere. However, the only person who can find anything will be my Mistress as everything inevitably follows her odd sort of logic. As long as I know where to queue up for the dog food, I’m easily pleased and given that I recognise both the sack of dog food and the container it is kept in, I shouldn’t have too much of a problem. Sometimes her organisation goes too far. While choosing a fireplace, major consideration has been given to whether there is anywhere to hang the stockings for when Santa comes. One fireplace was actually ruled out as there was nowhere inconspicuous for the hook that is required.