My front door bell has just been pressed. Because it did - I opened the door. Mistake number 1. There was a man standing there (we live in hope) I plastered on a smile - only to notice that it was the funny chubby guy with no hair and missing teeth and no relationship with deodorant from the building firm next door. What a great way to begin my day.
He came to tell me that their drains are blocked. Apparently their store-room regularly floods. The contents of the flooding water are not very pleasant (if you know what I mean) enough said.
He seems to believe that the blockage is down to me. I live alone. I go to the bathroom (harrumph) once per day. (I don't think any more detail is required...you get my meaning?). I am grateful for the regularity and so far no outside help is required. Not a Bran Flake in sight. Next door - they have a staff of about 15. Great big hairy arsed builders. In my reckoning - there's a 15 times more likely reason to believe that the drain blockage is down to them rather than me! Not exactly rocket science is it.
* Note - I don't technically live alone. There's also the dog. But her solid ablutions are taken care of in Ecclesall woods every afternoon.
I - on the other hand - don't have any problems. My sinks empty very well. My toilet flushes with super efficiency. I have no odious odours wafting through my dwelling. Lucky me.
So I can see no reason on God's green earth as to why I should phone the drain company and pay the bill to have the blockage removed. And I told him so. Very politely, I might add.
He's gone now - he wasn't very happy.
After he left I thought about it some more. He may as well have popped round and asked if he could take me out to dinner and me pay the bill because his wife is ugly.
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