Dry humping to recommence shortly…..

fuck this……

Not long after I wrote a post about how my husband liked to dry hump my rear as I unpacked the dishwasher, our dishwasher died. 


Well, not completely dead, but really really fucked up. I would turn it on before I went to bed and awake to find it still running, with a few inches of cold, greasy water in the bottom which I had to empty by hand. 


Then unpack the entire contents and wash it up the old fashioned way.


Oh, I would curse and kick that useless thing.


And because we rent, my complaints fell on deaf ears for a while, while the property manager went and got manicures and did her best to dodge my phone calls.


Note to my property manager. I am never calling you to ask how you are, or if you are having a wonderful day. I am calling you because something has died and needs some attention.


BREATHE……..


For those of you who are still reading this blog post (because it just must be so damn interesting)….. It takes two months for a mechanic to come and poke around at it for a bit before declaring the dishwasher to be deceased, report this back to the property manager, the manager stop playing Angry Birds for a micro-second to contact the owners and for the owners to decide to replace it.


So, to make a scintillating story short, we have been given a window of time today for the dishwashing man to come and remove bastard dishwasher and replace it with a shiny new one, so that Mr Woog can commence getting his hump on.


The window of time is somewhere between 7am and 3pm.


So I am going to guess we will get a call at 4pm, telling us that the dishwasher man is running late, and will be here tomorrow, somewhere between 7am and 4pm.

Has anyone ever turned up to your house at a designated time, on time?

I ask this because a guest from The Baby Shower turned up an hour and a half early on Sunday. I did not know said guest and she asked whether she was at the right house, as I was in my jammies still.