Categories: uncategorized
Date: 13 January 2009 13:39:53
Gah. DIY shops are run by a bunch of sexist pigs.
I've been trying to get the loft insulated for ages. Having had four contractors cancel on me before any of them actually managed to produce a quote, I thought "it can't be that hard, can it? I shall do it myself."
The Bumper Book of DIY for Girls is reassuringly straightforward, the bloke at work was confident in my abilities, and so was my dad (the man who knows (a) how disaster-prone I am and (b) my level of DIY competence*). We have a theory that when I'm doing potentially dangerous things, it's perfectly safe, because I concentrate. When I'm walking down the street, I tend to be on Planet Rosamundi, which does not necessarily intercept with Planet Earth all that much.
Anyway. I need X width by Y length of flat = Z sqm of loft insulation in panels A wide by B deep.
I also need a bigger stepladder (anyone got one I can borrow?), a crawl board to help reduce the risk of me putting my foot through the ceiling, a face mask and a boiler suit to keep the existing loft insulation (naked fibreglass) from irritating my skin. And this is where we hit the snag. Wickes will sell me everything else I need, but apparently boiler suits only come in Large, Extra Large, and Flippin' Enormous, and I need a Small. Or possibly a Medium.
"There's no call for small, madam."
"Yes there is, I'm asking for it."
Scowl mutter humph. Ah well, Google is my friend...
*Reasonably high. I do very neat wiring that has yet to burn Rosamundi Towers to the ground or black out the entire district.