Oh yes, they're back, and they're moving wardrobes again!

Mr Fix It All Up and his Incompetent Assistant have been living in their house (that's Gibbering Heights, Eastmede Rd, Isengard), for nearly a year.

You may remember that the last chronicle of their fun-filled crazy lives told the exciting story of the new wardrobe. Adorning their elegant bedroom are two dark wooden wardrobes, one large enough to hold Incompetent's ever-expanding heap of clothes, now she is a fashion victim...

But the dark forces of furniture removal have poisoned the mind of Fix It All Up. He has decided that the smaller double bedroom in the middle of the house would be better to sleep in because it is 1) quieter 2) darker and 3) has a nicer view of sky, trees, and gardens. Incompetent agrees, smug in the knowledge that she has always thought this and that good things come to those who wait...

Only one critical question remains: will all the furniture fit? FIAU, armed with measuring tape, uses the awesome power of centimetres to decide that it will.

The fundamental difference in temperament between our heroes now emerges. Incompetent naturally proposes putting it off or doing it very slowly in stages, an approach that, while successful in the world of cataloguing archives, is not appropriate to every situaiton encountered in life. In contrast, FIAU proposes doing it straight away all in one go so it isn't hanging over him and having decided that he will, immediately spends the next day moving all the furniture between the two rooms. He also enlists the help of the God of Common Sense to move the wardrobes. Fortunately, said God is not working at the moment and fancies a trip out to Gibbering Heights because he is a bit bored at home.

Incompetent returns to find FIAU and GoCS, wardrobe in hand. They manoeuvre it across the bedroom, through the door, and negotiate part of the step before FIAU remembers that it unscrews into two equal halves of the same size (hello Dad!).

Incompetent has often observed that successful communication rests less in the meaning of the words than in the tone in which they are said. So when the GoCS enquires "Shouldn't you have thought of this before you moved the wardrobe?", in a tone of the utmost mildness mixed with kind amusement, Incompetent wonders how they managed before he came along. (Jerome, one of the other deities in our pantheon, would have used the expressions 'dippy' or 'idiot' and dined out on the tale for years.)

In contrast to my esteemed compatriot, GoCS leans cheerfully against the wardrobe to support it while FIAU undoes the screws, and punctuated by the odd crash, bang, and exclamation of distress from FIAU, explains his plans to become a paid blogger and photographer.

Eventually the two halves of the wardrobe part company and are pushed, dragged, and lifted into the room.

The God is not impressed. He thinks the wardrobe looks monolithic, is unnecessary, and the solution is to have very few clothes so you can keep them in a drawer and have more room for books.

Incompetent hmms because the only two responses to this she can think of are: 1) he is not a girl and 2) Lucy got to Narnia through a wardrobe so they must be all right. The Eastmede Road debating society will have to look for other members.

Our trusty trio then repairs to the kitchen for pizza. A pleasant evening's chat is had, and the God of Common Sense departs with the words, "If you want to move it back again, just give me a ring."

A day passes. FiAU leaves no drawer unmoved and Incompetent returns from Friday out with her New Friend to find a large, beautiful, and perfectly proportioned study and a peaceful and orderly bedroom containing a wardrobe, which, although it has moved to the adjoining wall, is still in the same room and now contains her collection of stylish and up to the minute fashion, lovingly arranged.

I got a lot of blogging out of that little incident, didnt' I?