A bottle of wine deep and two-thirds of the bathroom cleaned when Murphy comes a knockin' at my door. I thought I would spend my Friday night at home packing crap and cleaning house. I got tired of packing crap so I figured I would make the bathroom nice. A nice uneventful evening at home cleaning, packing and drinking wine right?
No, not right.
The fucking shower knob thingamajigger broke. It's not the first time... the first time it was age that made the plastic part inside break. This time it's cheap plastic (replaced by even cheaper property management) that caused the problem. You turn the knob but the plastic part inside is not grabbing the inner bits that cause the water to come out. I can actually see the plastic innards have snapped apart.
|Mine is not a Moen, it has no brand.|
So here I am at 21:30, in my house garb, sweaty and hands smelling of bathroom cleansers with a broken shower.
I call the maintenance hot-line, which I can tell is located somewhere in The South. If I know anything, I know that maintenance here works at the speed of a one-legged man who broke his one leg. I spent the day working and then attending high school graduation out on this unusually warm, sunny day. THEN I went home to slave some more. I wanted a damn shower.
Then I call my gym, I never go at night. They close at 11 on Fridays so I have time to get over there and wash up. Then the brilliant idea hits me, I should have a little run/brisk walk while I am there. I have time for a little exercise before my shower.
So now I am clean with a broken shower. I have an empty bottle of wine that I feel none of the effects of having imbibed. It's now approaching midnight, should I pop open the soju?
It's probably best I do not since I am supposed to help a friend move to his new place first thing in the morning. -_-
I probably shouldn't have gone down to 7-11 for a French Vanilla Cappuccino either. I hope tonight isn't a sign of how 'smooth' my weekend will go.