The electrics were tripping all weekend. I knew this because the music would stop. When it came back on again the answer machine would speak: "Your answer machine is on."
"Your answer machine is on. Your answer machine is on." All day. Slightly frustrating but hey ho, thought it was the entire block.
I notice that on the phone panel it says "Memory full" but I ignore it. It's not friends, it's those annoying junk calls that come all the time.
So the property owner comes round, gives me shit for over loading the electrical system, saying she's going to have to re-wire the whole flat because I run too many things off the socket and well, I can't help but think: Is it a backlog of undeleted messages that have jammed the supply?
God, please don't let it be the answering machine, I pray. Yep, I actually pray.
The supplier comes round, checks the meter and says the main switch has burnt out, there's a connection loose.
"Is it my fault?"
"No, it isn't your fault."
"You sure? Not the telly or anything?
"No, it would burn out at the socket itself in that case."
"That's such a relief. The property owner is always blaming me for things that go wrong. When my boiler flooded the block, she said it was because I had my heating on too high. Turned out to be a crack in the float. This she says is me, but it's the main circuit you say?"
I'm relieved and angry at the same time. Blame the tenant. Blame the parent. Blame, blame, blame somebody all the time. I'm fucking sick of it.
Thank you God it wasn't the answering machine!!
"The answering machine is on!" No more should I hold in what I want or need to say. I am finally learning to defend myself and answering people back.
Perhaps I should also thank you God for my being such a thicko! It might get a laugh down the pub!