Dear lord, Lynn, if death threats aren’t allowed on this board, why are fate-worse-than-death threats okay?
I’m currently working in Madrid. My agent has several flats here and there was room in one of them, so I get room for free, which is nice even if you can deduct those rentals as business expenses.
The previous time I was in one of his Madrid flats, I got him to set it up for internet. Three programmers living there, and not one of them had had the guts to ask for internet access. I dealt directly with the agent that time, as the guy who manages his flats was out of town. This time, the manager (who looks to be on the upward side of 70) is in town. This is my second week in the flat and I’m alone; I’ve emailed him a list of things that are broken and what I plan to do to fix those I can, just as an FYI (some I saw last week, some I found out last night).
His first response has been incredulity :rolleyes: What, nobody had thought to mention that the dishwasher can’t be used, so it can? So can the sink. Nobody had thought to mention that the hob’s knobs have been unmarked by scrubbing (based on its features, that hob is about 20 years old), so the time I spent last night figuring out which one was which was a figment of my imagination (I mentioned I intend to relabel them)? And those pails which are kept in each of the two bathrooms, he thought they were for decoration? Oh wait, he probably hasn’t used or visited either one in months, if ever. The remote for the TV with the exploded batteries inside I wouldn’t have expected him to know about, it looks recentish.
I’m thinking of telling my agent that next time he isn’t sure what project to park me in, he can just send me to spend a couple of weeks at each of his houses and I’ll report on everything I find broken. Jesus Harold Christ, only because you’re not paying money for the housing does not mean you have to accept nonfunctioning thrones!
Scandal Sheet was one of the webcomics I had in my bookmark list, and once a week or two I would check to see if there had been a new comic posted. Last week I finally assumed that it was completely dead, and deleted the bookmark. So I will be looking forward to your announcement that it is back.
I’ll keep an eye out for that.
Not a rant, exactly: I finally put a number of things together this morning and confirmed to my own satisfaction that one of my coworkers is in the process of getting a divorce. Now I can’t figure out if I should say something to the person or not. Probably not–none of my damn business. What the hell would I say, anyway? “Sorry the marriage didn’t work out”?
I’m also itching to know whether anyone else in the office has connected the same dots and/or been told, but that’s *also *none of my damn business, and it would be incredibly rude to spread it around if they’ve neither figured it out not been told.
This morning, I also Pit beer (for making me hungover), myself (for subconsciously matching the pace of a guy who drinks like a fish), and time (for meaning that I’m bleary-eyed at my desk instead of sound asleep in bed).
The whatnow?
Also, do I correctly understand you that people have been living here and using buckets because the toilets are broken? What the fuck?!
Wiki says “the top cooking surface on a stove”. At least, that’s the definition that seems to fit the context.
I prefer to think that there are dirty ferret knobs.
So why do I now have Piper Laurie running through my head screaming “They’ll see your dirty ferret knobs!”?
:eek:
What jayjay said and yes, respectively. I couldn’t recall “stovetop”, those two years in Scotland have somehow managed to dunk my English in the Atlantic…
If I was managing a rental (ok, so this is legally a “loaned” flat, rather than rented; people living there still have the same rights and duties under Spanish law), I’d be checking periodically whether things work and whether holes in the walls are breeding. This guy seems to belong to the “if nobody is yelling, nobody is in pain” school of thought. He wasn’t even able to tell me what size the bed was when I was trying to decide which linens to bring (FTR, it’s 80cm wide, and those 10cm of difference with the 90cm I’m used to are remarkably noticeable).
Non-native speakers of any language are often my favorites, just because it’s always interesting the random words people have learned along the way. I provided no end of amusement to my Japanese friends when I was studying in Tokyo.
That’s an odd mattress size difference. What are the standard sizes in Spain? Or do you just tend to have a wide range of variation in 10cm increments?
Dear Sis:
I’ve known for quite a while now that you’re jealous of the relationship I have with our mother. There’s not a damn thing I can do about that. I can’t control how you feel, nor can I change the fact that I am her youngest child (by a wide margin) and therefore had more one-on-one time with her as I grew up. That’s just the reality of the situation. But, you know what’s also the reality of the situation? That I no longer live in the area. I’m in a completely different country now - a full day’s travel away from Mom. You have a golden opportunity to build a stronger relationship with her. She would love nothing more than that and has told you so many times. Over the years, she’s extending more olive branches to you than either of us can count.
So, why then, do you insist on making her miserable? Why is she dreading the fact that you have a week off to “help” settle our grandfather’s estate? Why is she sending me sad & frustrated emails at 8 am? I’ll tell you why - because you don’t fucking listen to her. You talk at her, not to her. You tell her how her way of dealing with things is wrong, what she should be doing…and then leave without lifting a fucking finger to help. You leave everything until the last fucking minute and then expect her to make it all work out. You insist on speaking in God Botherer platitudes when you know it drives her crazy.
And, sweet sister, you insist on staying blind to the fact that you already have a special relationship with our mother. You’re her firstborn. You’re the reason she became a mother. After you were born, she looked at you - not me, you - and swore to be everything her mother wasn’t. Do you have any idea how much it hurts her to dread spending time with you? The woman gave birth to four children, but only the two of us are left. She watched her daughter die at 19 after wasting away from cancer. She watched her only son struggle with his emotional problems until he killed himself at 37. Do you have any idea how that feels? I certainly don’t, but I would imagine after experiencing that, she would want to make every moment with her remaining children count. Many times, she’s asked me why you act the way you do and I’ve tried to explain it to her, but really, she doesn’t understand and she never will because she would never treat you the way you treat her.
The bottom line is, you don’t like me. I know that. You know that, although you’d never admit it. Our relationship is strained, to say the least, and when Mom is no longer with us, I don’t imagine we’ll have any relationship at all. But, for God’s sake, don’t let that affect whatever you have left with Mom. Stop trying to one-up me and just be her daughter.
(And since someone might question why I don’t say this directly to my sister - I have. Many times. I’ve tried the sweet & pleading approach. I’ve tried the angry & ranting approach. Nothing changes. Whatever she needs to hear to make her understand, I am unable to say.)
Well, originally I went with the death threat alone. Then I remembered it was technically against the rules. I might be able to claim to be exempted, as Cecil’s Own Angel of Death, but I figured that the Velveeta would get your attention better, anyway. 
So apparently my cheek is SUPPOSED to have a painful, stinging piece of skin flapping from it. OK, whatever you say, doctor. Fortunately the other side feels completely normal, so I’ll just chew over there for now. I had my first tortilla chips in a week yesterday and it was ecstasy.
chizzuk, should anyone ever suggest that I get oral surgery of any kind, I will forward this thread to them after I run screaming from the room.
Yep, I definitely have Lyme disease. Fortunately it’ll only cost a couple hundred to cure it…the e.r. would have insisted on doing a blood test (which the American Lyme disease association says is accurate at this state about 1/5th of the time), so urgent care in town was actually the better option.
It’d be nice if there were health insurance plans for people whose employers don’t offer them at the rates MA now pays - there I’d be on the line between $40 a month or $0, and here plans start at $160. Don’t tell my ultra-conservative parents, but my biggest problem with Obamacare (besides thinking people who really believe it’ll save any money are too precious for words) is that it’s scheduled to help working uninsured so far into the future…
Wait, I’m supposed to rant about something. Fucking tick infestation!! The doctor said he treated 8 people for it one day earlier this month, and there are way less than 10,000 people in town. Does the CDC ask for counts to be kept?
Bet you haven’t tried the “hundred obnoxious strangers from the internet” approach! Post her email and we can all send her notes telling her she’s an idiot. I hear people react really well to that.
Tempting. Very tempting.
Cars driving slowly in the furthest left lane should be vaporized from orbit.
That is all.
I simmered up some chicken carcasses for stock/broth over the weekend. (Yes, there’s a difference … I use meaty bones so it’s kinda halfway.) Anyway, I was taking a nap while it was cooling so Mr. Horseshoe was nice enough to strain, jar, and refrigerate it.
“Thanks, sweetie! Did you taste it? Was it seasoned enough?”
“You never salt things enough, you know that.”
“Yeah, yeah.”
“I fixed it for you - added a little salt. It’s perfect now.”
I took some to work with me today:
sluuuurp
** cough **
Good lord, sweetie. Next time, can I have some broth to go with that bowlful of soy sauce? (Side rant: I hate when he uses soy sauce to salt something like this. I want it to have a clear, clean flavor. You want the extra soy goodness, add it to the final dish. This was supposed to be an ingredient, dammit.)