We wish you a dusty Christmas and a dirty New Year

It’s official. I am allergic to my house. Kelly came home yesterday in the middle of the day to find our house swathed in a cloud of white dust and the builders, that we did not know were coming, merrily turning our house into a death trap… well for Kelly and I at least. Said builders were removing blown plaster from the walls without putting down any kind of dust protection leading to every surface in the house, including linen, clean washing, electrical equipment and curtains being impregnated with debris. Not only were they making the mess of the century, they were also trampling further dust into Barb’s room because they were… get this… listening to her radio. Can’t say I’m that surprised because the last time they were in the house they helped themselves to tea and coffee and left the dirty mugs on the landing.

Now there is war with the letting agents. They are most certainly NOT supposed to send builders into the house without notifying us, especially ones that merrily lie about contacting us and change their story about how habitable the house is. I am incandescent with rage.

This is exacerbated by the fact that I have a number of quite severe allergies. One of which is dust. Although my room is the least affected, I am still having trouble breathing and even now away from the house, I am coughing, itching and struggling with red and burning eyes. Kelly is asthmatic so she’s not doing very well either. Fortunately she is heading back to the homeland for Christmas tomorrow so she’ll get away from the vicious infestation… me, I have nowhere else to go. Anyone got a spare room I can borrow? Oh… and Jen arrives on Sunday. Nice welcome present this is… the house of doom! Merry fucking Christmas.