You see, this is the kind of thing that gives me the shits. For some reason, the vacuum cleaner, which is by no means old, but I’m sure is out of warranty, though to confirm that I would first have to find the docket, has shat itself.

Which is particularly shitty, because by three o’clock this afternoon, the house was going to look much cleaner than it does, because I reckon vacuuming delivers a lot of bang for your cleaning buck, and I was really looking forward to sitting in front of a DVD and knitting this evening, all the while enjoying the absence of dust rabbits.

And also, it is shitty because, after several weeks (including three when I wasn’t here) perhaps rolling into months, I have just this morning been able to force myself to ring the oven people to please come – at a time of their convenience – and fix the oven so that I can cook again without that niggling feeling of oh dear, are we all going to be incinerated this evening. Which means that I must once again have dealings with the person who came to ‘fix’ the dishwasher, and let’s just say that me and he are never going to be the best of friends.

When did I become this person?