It's been raining in Piopio. Again. One of those winters, which is good for the grass growth and thus the stock, but makes for sometimes grumpy people who swear they're going moldy. The odd sunny day is a cause for celebration.
The front drive is so mucky that we've closed the white picket gate and directed everyone to the back cottage gate, less chance of getting stuck. When the digger is next in the situation will be rectified.
John and I were talking last night about an impending swarm of tradesmen coming to finish up the kitchen. The kitchen cabinetry guys (to make the "benches" in NZ parlance), plumber and electrician are all coming for the job.
This prompts me to think of the 1980's hit by the Weather Girls, "It's Raining Men." Flashback to aerobics classes, wildly colored risque spandex leotards, leg warmers and big hair.
Perhaps we shouldn't go there. I just hope the guys leave their muddy boots at the door.
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