The flatmate and I did have our talk. It was surprisingly good and nice and not at all as uncomfortable as I had anticipated it would be. It was actually quite pleasant. Shouldof dunnit mumfs ago. Everything is sorted. He's going out, new guy coming in, forms filled out and sent to the agents. And then of course the obligatory credit check fee paid to the agents as well. Erm.... Let's hope they don't look too closely at that bit. Banks really have the oddest sense of humour. And it's not shared by estate agents.
I was going to house sit a friend's XBox, sorry, cat this weekend (that changed, not Xboxing anymore this weekend, damn) and also return his extremely expensive External USB Audio Interface. We call it the soundcard. Which, of course, it is. Only cooler. So I packed it neatly in its box (the soundcard), with all the foamalite packaging and all the bits and bobs and promptly flung it into the boot of the Yaris. Obviously the boot was then full. There was no reason for the last sentence. It was just a mere statement of fact. I had been driving with it in the boot for a few days now, hoping for a chance to drop it off with its rightful owner. I haven't had one. As the car sleeps in a garage at the girlfriend's house and I can see it the whole time the rest of the day, I just haven't bothered ever taking it out of the boot.
Last night, had me and the colleague slaving away, moving a gargantuan desk about two metres to the left. We attempted lifting it up first. Now, we're not spring chickens anymore, but we still consider ourselves fairly strapping youngish lads. Lifting didn't work so well. In fact, not at all. We even had the pallet jack handy to gently roll it away. It never got onto the pallet jack. So we resorted to sitting on the floor, feet braced against something heavy and pushed with our legs, backs against the desk. This worked. We moved it a phenomenal 30cm at a time, but it worked. We did remove all wires from computers etc. first, so that we wouldn't accidently pull something off. After the move we redid the wirng quickly, with a slight modification here and there and then there was this one little wire. A phone cable. I just didn't check where I pulled it out. So I thought the best course of action would be not to really check where I put it in again. Hopefully, something important has not stopped working.
After our labour intensive endevours I headed off home, quickly grabbed a bite to eat, bundled the girfriend into the Yaris and off we went to an old friend's birthday party. He was very glad to see his mates. He had also had quite a few shots of Wild Turkey and pickle juice. It has a name, I forget what. Oh yes, Picklebacks. Most of the people there also had a go at these things. As did I and I was surprised to find that it wasn't as completely horrible as I expected. I really don't like gherkins. So this was quite a leap for me. The venue chosen for this pickle revolution was the Vesperado's local haunt. Looked a bit dodgey outside the gate, but very industrial, yet cosy once inside. "The cheapest Grolsch in Cape Town" the bar lady told me. I decided to believe her and take her up on the offer. Beer is good. A quick few of those and off we went home again and parked the car outside for a change. We did some synchronised breathing exercises, with corresponding bodily movements, which proved a little taxing (I started seeing spots and almost passed out, very embarrassing, so much for stamina) and then tried to get some well earned rest. Until about 2 o'clock, when my bladder decided I am not as young as I think I am and it wants to be relieved. Now. After a short, but frantic search for slippers (tiles are constipatingly cold this time of year), it was time for the loo and then a quiet smoke in the lounge. This was where I heard the soft thudding sounds from outside.
I crept over to the kitchen window and peered outside. Nothing. I peered some more. Still nothing. Then I crept over to the front door and peered through the spy hole. Ahah! I small light suddenly appeared inside my car. I blinked a few times to see if it was just the lack of sleep talking, but no, there was the light again. I switched on the porch light and valiantly ran away to find something that I can moer somebody with. Like a stick or a gholf club, or an elongated pebble. The only thing I could get was a Y-shaped iron rod, that they use for fences. Bit on the heavy side, but I figured, if I could lift it, momentum would do the rest. By the time I got the door and safety gate unlocked, weapon in hand, the miscreant had long since made his escape. I surveyed the damage. Broken passanger window (new small cars don't have the cheap triangle windows anymore), face of radio (which is not a removable face) removed, scratches around the radio as if some idiot tried to slice it out of the dashboard with a pen knife, everything else in the car opened and thrown on the seats. Glass everywhere. But also, fairly expensive laser measuring tool, intact and lying in the open. Most importantly, one External USB Audio Device, in its box, safe on the drivers' seat. I was so happy I could cry. I would have too, if the security company guys (and eventually the police) didn't arrive. Went through all the procedures, made my statement and sent them all on their way again. Obviously without any suspects. They actually put that in the statement that they (very badly) write for you. But they were all very friendly and helpful. When they had all left, I finally had the midnight ciggie. Then as I walked to bed, to try this sleeping thing again, I thought, thank goodness I am getting so old. My bladder might just have saved a bunch of stuff. I crawled into bed, snuggled into the girlfrind and smiled at my luck.
The trip to Somerset West this morning, in the cold and wet, sans window, was not fun mind you.
TFLNOTD:
