The very short version - my parents offered to pay for my house rewiring as a belated wedding gift. The house is now rewired, they came round today to ooh and ahhh over it, and then left. Without any mention of refunding me the four figure sum I’ve paid out to have it done.
I can afford it, the work was going to be done anyway, regardless of their “gift”, I’m just pissed off and wondering what the fuck happened to my wedding present.
Hope you can ask them.
I’d call one and ask them to discuss it: “Can you talk to Mom about the wiring being a wedding present?”
Send them a Thank you card. “Dear Mom and Dad, Bill and I are so grateful for your giving us the rewiring. Every time the air conditioning comes on and all the lights no longer dim we will think of you and bless you…”
Ha! Yes, I suspect they’re waiting for me to volunteer an actual amount for them to pay up, but likewise I’m far too British AND Scottish to actually bring up money first.
I’m nae beggar 
Physical Plant forgot to turn on the sump pump/pump burned out/torrential rain overwhelmed redundant systems/choose whatever excuse/excuse bouquet works . . .
The entire floor of our basement office turned into a river over the weekend and it’s a giant, very stinky, already-moldy-mess with all our office furniture and stuff tossed into the hallway while they try to recoup the carpet and perma-furniture of 15 offices. Some of the H20 breached the space where the server is, so Internet is down and possibly perma-fried.
It’s going to be a looong, odiferous, allergy-producing, and ultimately futile effort, my friends! (This is round three of the last ten years of water damage, insidious mold, and collapsing ceilings. Too bad it’s never fixed correctly and long-term; the carpet was already craptacular 15 years ago and ceiling tiles are merely replaced when they collapse. I think Someone is trying to kill all of us very sloooowly).
For normal folks, I imagine this would be a mega-real pitting. Unfortunately, this has become so routine that it’s just another mini-rant 
The job won’t put another microwave in the break room which means it;s a long ass line to heat up your lunch:mad:
Pitting my knee – actually my patella – again. That’s where all my arthritis is located, according to the MRI.
I’m a candidate for arthroscopic surgery, possibly a partial replacement.
Our insurance only covers cortisone shots which don’t do jackcrap
I saw this line without noticing the name above the post, and instantly knew who it was and where it was going. 
I’m taking a course involving financial stuff. In theory it’s in Spanish; in reality, there are a lot of terms which have been translated word-by-word from English. Not even word-for-word, as several of the horrors produced involve things which aren’t even false friends, they’re planets away.
Goddamnit, if you can’t even speak about what’s supposed to be your job in what’s supposed to be your primary language, just teach it in English, it would be easier to understand. I’m having to back-translate and retranslate every single piece of jargon.
Oh, do share some of these palabras of the jerga who be un-apropiado!
which, you words can’t be whos!
We all knew my Dad was dying for the last couple of years, so when he finally did last month we were prepared, but COPD is a really shitty way to go.
Still I think a sudden death would have hit us a lot harder.
Stop getting in wrecks, you stupid assholes! You are delaying 100,000 people for 60-90 minutes every frickin day this week because you wanted to update your Facebook or hunt Pokemons or whatever it is you are doing instead of paying attention to the road..
:mad:
Related rant: Pokemon GO AWAY. Like we needed yet another reason for people to be distracted! I was walking in a local park yesterday and got really tired of having to watch out for people who were more interested in their stupid phones than in not colliding with others.
When contacting a stranger for professional reasons to ask for information or help in seeking some resource, tell them what you already know about it and what you have already attempted to do in seeking it.
Today was another goddamn three-email go-around with a message out of the blue from someone I don’t know from Adam’s off ox asking if I could please help obtain access to Item X, and when I bother to look up online information about Item X’s location and send it back, I get a reply wistfully bleating that they’ve already seen that info and haven’t had any success communicating with the site. WELL IF YOU’D MENTIONED THAT IN THE FIRST PLACE THEN I WOULDN’T HAVE HAD TO WASTE MY TIME LOOKING IT UP FOR YOU, WOULD I? Sheee-EEsh.
I am nothing if not predictable 
Today’s family rant - I had forwarded my sister an Amazon email of stuff I’ve just ordered for the 5 year old, to start stockpiling for her December birthday & Christmas presents. She walked in the house tonight and said “I hear you’re getting some Elsa books!!”
Way to ruin the surprise 
So … how does a 2-year-old get diagnosed with OCD? Where’s the line between OCD and “little-kid quirks”? Why does it seem like every child is getting a label slapped on them these days?
Nursery started hinting about my kid’s quirks being unusual at age 2. She’s 5 now, awaiting formal diagnosis for probably Autistic Spectrum Disorder. So, yeah, they know kid quirks and they know what’s non-standard quirks
PS Vaccinate your damn kids. Autism, while unrelated to the MMR vaccine, still trumps death
For the last few days, the guy who lives in the apartment below me has been screaming late at night (~1am). Not just shouting, but cursing at the top of his lungs. He’s in his late 20s/early 30s and he’s muscular, so I haven’t confronted him. To make matters stranger, an old man has been sitting in a gray truck outside the apartment for long amounts of time.
I went to the leasing office, and they told me they were aware of the situation. The young man recently broke up with his wife, who took the kids. Despite talking to doctors, he’s lost all will to live. Now he just plays video games and curses. The old man is his father, who is presumably awaiting his son’s death.
I feel guilty. I wish there was some way I could help, but I’ve never been in a similar situation. If the professionals can’t help this guy, I don’t think I’d stand a chance. And if I offend him, he may burn down the building.
Still, I’ll express my sympathy to the father the next time I see him.
The elderly guy in front of me in line at the supermarket. He had to examine every one of my items on the belt, picking them up, squeezing them, reading the labels, asking me whether they were any good. Even the jar of gefilte fish. How do you tell someone who’s never had gefilte fish whether it’s “any good”? I told him it tasted like shit. Then he asked me whether I do my own cooking, and WHETHER I STILL HAVE SEX AT MY AGE! I told him yes, but my dick doesn’t get as hard as my husband’s. That finally shut him up.