Unending Domestic Upheaval (Part 2)

Yesterday’s problems have ceased: The hole in the ceiling has been patched. A very nice builder came yesterday morning to fill it in. Now, I've not much experience with builders as my father tends to do all the work on our house himself, but I expected him to be loud, brash and take over the house. Instead, he was extremely polite, asked me if I minded him playing his radio and he tidied up afterwards as well. And he locked the flat, as requested. It's still cosmetically ugly as it is brown not white, but I think it is the best we can hope for.

And the new fridge was delivered this morning, with no real hassles either. They unpacked it, wheeled it into place and took away the rubbish. It was all over very quickly; we just have to wait until this evening to turn it on and put our food inside.

No, the real problem is this: M has allergies - to dust, to feathers, to damp places. His sinuses have been bothering him for weeks and he has been plagued with a rash on hands and feet. But we live in a flat full of dust, brick and plaster from the ceiling in addition to the usual fluff (which I just can't seem to get rid of); he works in a fine wine shop with a damp and dusty cellar and my favourite thing in the whole world is my goose feather duvet and pillows. Clearly, we are incompatible. I don't mind spending the weekend clearing the flat of all dust and cleaning it from tip to toe, but buying new bedding? I fear we'd be better off with separate beds...