Not my forte

Things you should know:
1. Ivie suffers from triskaidekaphobia. 
2. It's not as painful as it sounds. 

Last weekend, it felt like Spring was in the air for many of us. The sun shone, thermals were (prematurely) shed and daffodils were starting to make an appearance. 

It was also time to make a start on a job that I'd been slightly procrastinating about. Not because I'm lazy but because I lack the precision gene. Add to that shaky hands passed down from my Dad and it's safe to say that doing things neatly is not my forte. 

I'm much more aligned to the F*** it, it'll do school of thought or as Ivie and I frequently observe, 'it's better than it was'. This is a very adaptable phrase that is useful for many household situations. 

• Washed the kitchen floor but the puppy has already scattered her food over it? It's better than it was. 
• Cleaned the car but couldn't quite reach the top of the roof? It's better than it was. 
• Made the bed but it's not quite hotel standard? It's better than it was. 

I'm not like this with everything, though; just practical tasks. Once at my old house, my brother cut the hedge and suggested (strongly) that I sweep up the debris. I got bored quite quickly and started kicking bits back under the hedge where they couldn't be seen. 

I didn't notice I'd been noticed until my brother yelled, "Pretend it's a spreadsheet!". It's a source of great disappointment that those closest to me do not share my ability to see the beauty in a neat, well-designed spreadsheet. But I digress. 

Back to the job (almost) in hand: painting my shed. Painting the inside is beyond my clumsy and trembling capabilities but I figured I could probably tackle the outside without too many issues. (Basically I'm tight and wanted to make sure my shed wouldn't rot in the rain. Can you see why Ivie and I are so well suited...?).

I managed better than I expected before I had to draft in the big boys to reach the parts smaller women can't. I was very glad to have Ivie and Drew on hand to paint the higher sections. We won't talk about who got on the roof - and how - to paint the apex. 

There was a ladder propped up against the back of the shed and I ducked underneath it from time to time to touch up some of the spots I'd missed. I wondered aloud if anyone was superstitious about it (they weren't) and I carried on. Then we started discussing phobias and superstitions more generally. 

Neat decking...

The scores are in and it's Drew - 0; me - 1 (new shoes on the table, yikes!); Ivie - many and varied, including the aforementioned triskaidekaphobia (also known as extreme superstition regarding the number thirteen). 

It turns out that Ivie is really quite serious about his feelings for the number 13. There are no lambs with number 13 sprayed on them - they go straight from 12 to 14; he doesn't relax fully until we're down to 12 ewes left to lamb; and he doesn't much care for the volume on his car radio being at 13. 

Tidying up also not my forte

As of this afternoon, we're down to 12 ewes which pleases Ivie for a couple of reasons. Partly, it's not 13 and partly, the end is in sight. Although I've learned enough about lambing over the last couple of years to know that this last dozen will really string it out, probably for another fortnight. 

Still, it's better than it was.