The property owner called last night asking if she could come round to check the new fuse box the electrician had installed.
9pm she turned up. I was knackered watching any old rubbish on TV until my Wednesday favourites started.
She was not happy. There was a screw top missing on the face panel which itself didn't look secure. A cable was stopping the door which can't close, from closing. Nor had the electrician cleaned up after himself. She said she'd get him to come back.
I went back to sitting on the sofa and just let her get on with her investigations.
She came into the room and started poking about the sockets again.
"Did you get my warning letter?"
"No, not yet."
"You know you really have to do something about this, it's a very dangerous fire hazard."
"You haven't come to lecture me again have you?" I ask flatly.
"Yes I have. What's this?!" as she picks up a postcard off the armchair next to the telly stand stacked with my son's video's. She then taps the extension bracket sitting on a filing cabinet behind the stand and next to said armchair.
"You put that there. Those brackets have four sockets designed to take four plugs. It's perfectly safe. Two electricians told me."
"I'm going to have to call the firebrigade and get someone to come and talk to you."
"Do what you want."
Oh to be past caring about something. It's so nice.
She left and I settled down to watch Mad Men. They've gone and scheduled Damages on the same night so I've had to sacrifice Desperate Housewives. As it turned out, I missed the flipping lot because I fell asleep and woke up again at midnight.
Funny though, not so long ago I told you I was mad and desperate. I may aswell admit I'm damaged too! What a comfort, Wednesday night telly!
I'm also quite excited at the prospect of a fireman coming round, have to say. He might be really gorgeous! He might be really strong! He might understand.