Communication is the key.

A little bit of research on the internet leads me to believe we have one of thosethingsIdarenotmentionwithahairytail.  Rubbish.  Not sure how to deal with that one…..

Isn’t communication a wonderful thing?  Something I feel very strongly about actually.  At work in the UK it used to irritate the pants off me when we had all the technology needed for things to run smoothly, yet, sometimes they simply didn’t.  In one particular work place barriers were put up in order to make communication just one huge chore. I pride myself on being what I consider to be an ok communicator.  I can’t necessarily write (or speak for that matter) succinctly but I think I read people ok and get my point across.  That was until my curtains arrived back from the ‘Seamstress’ (it’s in inverted commas as I would question that title fiercely for reason which will become apparent later).  You’ll remember I asked for 4 curtains.  That is two windows, two curtains = four curtains.  Not eight, four.  So when I opened the bag and eight curtains appeared I was surprised.  OK, not an issue.  I’ll just have four strips on each window, fine.  Except only 3 fit on the rail, not a problem, I just have two left over.  Put them all on, gather the fabric I hear you shout.  Not that easy when the loop of fabric created to slip over pole leaves you feeling like you are trying to get a white man’s condom on a black man’s penis.  I actually had to cut the stitching off the ends of all the curtains (all six of them).  The space for the pole was tight enough at one end but got progressively smaller as the stitching continued along the width of the curtain, to the point it was too small to get the pole in.  When each curtain is somewhere in the region of 70cm long I fear a wonky eyed woman is not one I would give the title of Seamstress to.  To top it off they look like this….

Miles to short.  Ho hum.  At least the glass at the bottom is obscured.