And then I called her a whore

So … a few weeks back, amidst all the Universe fucking with my head, my smartphone died.

Since then, I have, obviously, been reconnected with cyberspace and my emails.

We’ve been back and forth emailing our real estate agent in order to get some essentials, like heating and a working oven. After finding out she was no longer working for the organisation and were appointed a new agent, a plumber has actually shown to check out the state of said heating. Or lack thereof.

“So. You’ve been without heating for a month?” he asks, slightly incredulous.

“Yup.”

“Huh,” he replied.

Which I felt was rather understated, to be honest, and didn’t at all reflect the overall feelings of the household, particularly at night, which closely resembles those caterpillars that cluster together in the middle of footpaths and you end up

2 Replies to “And then I called her a whore”

  1. Gosh I hope things get better for you soon. We are currently renting and have pretty useless agents. They did end up fixing up our oven door which didn’t close up properly, making the stove top knobs above red-hot and resulting in cooking taking twice as long as it should. It took 5 phone calls, 2 formal requests in writing, 3 visits from the electrician and my nasty voice to get something so basic done…good luck with it.

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