No more Tuna

Last night I went home and there was the bones of a kitchen in the space that my builders had made for it. Imagine! Cupboards to put stuff in, benches for preparing stuff, holes for ovens and dishwashers and everything. Even room for a sink.

Today they were finishing it off (although it still needs proper benches and a splashback and a rangehood). I'll even be able to cook in it and everything.

And I'm not kidding when I say, not a day too soon. Today I looked at the can of tuna on my desk. Sitting expectantly, waiting to be opened and made into a tuna salad.

And I Just. Couldn't. Face it.

I've finally eaten as much as I can take of tuna salad.

I had hummus with salad instead.

Nearly...there

I think this is almost the final week. Well at least for the major stuff. On Friday I will have a kitchen. It won't be a totally final kitchen but it will have one essential item... an oven.

No oven, no microwave, no hot food in my own home for four weeks. Mates have been amazing and I'm still not sick of tuna salads but I am so, totally, completely, utterly ready to be able to cook in my house again.

For that matter I'm ready to have cupboards and drawers to put stuff in and somewhere to plug in the kettle. And a bench to put it on. And a sink to wash the dishes in (there's somthing just so totally skanky about washing your dishes in the bathroom).

I'm also ready to have curtains in my bedroom, bookcases with books on them and a deck without old kitchen cabinetry and a toilet on it.

Little things.