"You're not going to unpack those in here, are you?" said Himself, about to hoist another white kitchen cupboard door onto its hinges.
"Because ...?" I ventured, taken aback and suddenly tentative, clutching a large cobwebby box (recently rescued from languishing in the now chilly outdoor shed at the bottom of the garden).
"Well, because those are powdered dyes of, I suspect, a very permanent kind", Himself said with uncharacteristic sternness, removing a screw from between his lips. "And this is a new kitchen".
"They have to go somewhere", I countered, a tad defensively. "I want to get back to using them." The raised eyebrow turned in my direction had sceptical written all over it. "So where do you suggest, then?" I tried to make the latter sound pleasantly enquiring but the hint of steel was not lost on him.
"Ah, mmm ... what about ...?" Himself began, but it was, alas, too late. I recognise a hesitation when I hear one.
"Here will be just fine", I said firmly, setting the box down on the table. "It can be my new temporary workdesk. Anyway, they need decanting into glass jars and water adding to them." Himself looked dubious, door balanced on knee and foot on step-ladder. "I'll put newspaper and polythene down." I said. He opened his mouth. "And a dust-sheet", I added. "Tea?"
He nodded.
Skirmishing shouldn't be this easy - I added a chocolate biscuit to his saucer. And caught his eye. Hum. There'd better be something to show for this, or it could be a case of What's Off Your Workdesk Wednesday ...
