Tuesday, 12 April 2011

When appliances attack!

My washing machine AND dishwasher both staged a coup last night and basically crapped on my evening by spewing their guts all over my apartment. Alone and bewildered, I spent the next 2 hours of my pretty crummy Monday wading through water, trying to keep the television from sparking and frantically bailing water out onto the walkway outside my front door.

Where was my husband you ask? Good question. I stupidly bought him Neil Diamond tickets and sent him and his Dad to the concert so there was no man to come to my aid. In fact, I watched through the spy-hole in the door how the people next-door-but-one came out of their flat to look at the water, point madly at my door and then pace around like constipated chickens trying to decide whether:

a)      The water was indeed pouring out under the door of my apartment
b)      Whether I knew that there was water pouring out under the door of my apartment
c)       If I had in fact drowned in the water that was pouring out of my apartment

I think the questions were too much for them as they went back inside their flat and shut the door. Gits.
So I now have calluses on my hands the size of Guernsey from frantic mopping and a large majority of my towels are water-logged and smell quite foul. I even dreamt last night that I was drowning in a mop bucket surrounded by cutlery. I think I perhaps need therapy.


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