We’ve had a pair of bunk-beds delivered, and shuffled the house around to make everything (including the beds) match the people.
The adjacent childrens’ bedroom is now the auction-stuff room, Xan (Small Sir) has his own room, which he’ll wind up sharing with Daniel, & Aiyana is now sharing with an empty space which will contain Arrows (Small Miss) tomorrow, after a day spent with The J’s (in-laws James & Jane & four offspring) in their home — north a few suburbs from here.
The littlies are very excited about the bunks, after having played on some at Mardie’s home recently (Mardie is Luighseach’s Mum).
We had the last details of the Peugeot 505’s damaged starter-solenoid fixed yesterday, but when Herself walked the few doors over to fetch it, it wouldn’t start. Why not? Quite simple, really: the immobiliser hadn’t been shut down.
Herself, used to driving her Mum’s automatic after a few days behind it’s wheel, had suspected that she’d fiddled the gears oddly or something like that. I feel much better now about some of the flibberty-gibbet things I’ve overlooked in recent times myself. (-:
On the other hand, my being decreed officially human means that many of the benefits which being cranium-eroded had attracted suddenly vanished in a big cloud of logic. As I’ve mentioned before, the rules surrounding medicine & insurance are a little odd & surprising.