How hard is it to paint in a straight line?!

So, the Gulf News man came a-ringing the doorbell today wanting us to renew our subscription (yes, they actually do come to your door). I asked him to prove he was from the newspaper. He smiled at me. Very oilyly. I told him I was serious. He laughed. I glared. He shut up. And showed me a card. After which he seemed in a hurry to leave.

Dad has gone a bit mad. He just came into the study, touched me on the shoulder with one finger, sniffed the beige kandoora he was wearing, mentioned how lovely the laundry smells these days (mountain fresh even) and then proceeded to jump around on one foot singing 'himme himme'. I don't know. Don't ask me. Now he's gone off to lie on the living room couch in front of the newly fixed up entertainment system complete with repaired plasma tele, satellite AND cable and denies all allegations to his aforementioned jumping around on one foot singing 'himme himme'.

And Mum, for some strange obscure reason, is looking up recipes for egg fried rice. I thot we were having baigan for dinner.

This entire family is off it's noodle if you ask me.

And in case you're wondering wot prompted the previous post - I was miserable with foot troubles yesterday. Awash in a sea of pain as it were. No more quinine. The thought of being quinine-less for an extended period of time makes me quiver in fear. Need to get more. Simply must have more quinine.

There is gold being painted on the gypsum around the house. No, not actual gold, you understand. Gold paint I mean. And the buggers can't paint in a straight line to save their life. Literally. I threatened them unto point of death (or is it upto?). But they still won't. They go all willy-nilly with it and then fix it with white paint. Very stupid if you ask me. Anyway.