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then the wheels fell off
Sunday, 9 August 2009 10:12 amBleah. Also gah, and phooey. My mother dashed out of the house at 9am this morning to take Da Niece to a birthday party as a proxy for my sick sister, only to discover that some thrice-accursed child of a mangy jackal, or possibly children of same, had removed the front passenger side and back driver's side wheels of her car at some stage during the night. New South Africa Strikes Again, causing the usual response (mild nausea, and a tendency to say "Well, at least no-one died" in tones of forced cheer.)
As a result I'm only now having my first proper cup of tea of the day, since the cup I'd just made when mother dashed back into the house went cold while I (a) consoled mother, (b) lent her my car to do the necessary niece-wrangling, (c) mobilised the Evil Landlord to manually shut the gate which mother forgot to do as she left, owing to a completely understandable state of fluster, (d) phoned the security company, (e) tried to phone the police, which didn't work owing to them not actually picking up the phone at any stage, (f) chatted to the security company guys, who arrived commendably quickly but didn't do much more than metaphorically kick the remaining tyres and say, "Well, yup, definitely gone, then", (g) filled in a security company incident report (5 mins), (h) chatted to the police, who arrived five minutes later after having been routinely phoned by the security company, score one for ADT, and (i) sat around for twenty-five minutes by the clock on the piano, as the nice constable man painstakingly filled in three paragraphs describing the incident. Now I am finally drinking tea and dealing with the situation, viz. by blogging it.
I'm intrigued by the choice of wheels, it seems curiously random. Alternatively, it's some form of particularly lateral ritual magic designed to bring balance to the universe. Probably not, though. I think the chanting would have woken someone up.
I was all prepared to blog about John Hughes, too, but now I'm too annoyed. Maybe tomorrow. If this pox-raddled Iburst consents to give me anything above a 30% signal, that is. Cosmic Wossnames 3, me 0. Tchah.
As a result I'm only now having my first proper cup of tea of the day, since the cup I'd just made when mother dashed back into the house went cold while I (a) consoled mother, (b) lent her my car to do the necessary niece-wrangling, (c) mobilised the Evil Landlord to manually shut the gate which mother forgot to do as she left, owing to a completely understandable state of fluster, (d) phoned the security company, (e) tried to phone the police, which didn't work owing to them not actually picking up the phone at any stage, (f) chatted to the security company guys, who arrived commendably quickly but didn't do much more than metaphorically kick the remaining tyres and say, "Well, yup, definitely gone, then", (g) filled in a security company incident report (5 mins), (h) chatted to the police, who arrived five minutes later after having been routinely phoned by the security company, score one for ADT, and (i) sat around for twenty-five minutes by the clock on the piano, as the nice constable man painstakingly filled in three paragraphs describing the incident. Now I am finally drinking tea and dealing with the situation, viz. by blogging it.
I'm intrigued by the choice of wheels, it seems curiously random. Alternatively, it's some form of particularly lateral ritual magic designed to bring balance to the universe. Probably not, though. I think the chanting would have woken someone up.
I was all prepared to blog about John Hughes, too, but now I'm too annoyed. Maybe tomorrow. If this pox-raddled Iburst consents to give me anything above a 30% signal, that is. Cosmic Wossnames 3, me 0. Tchah.
