Because knowing bad stuff is going to happen does nothing to make any of it any easier when it does.
Let me tell you a story about the house I live in.
Not long after we moved in here, the boiler broke. Eventually the landlord sent a guy in to fix it, but we had cold showers for far too long.
A couple of weeks later the handle fell off the downstairs bathroom door. The landlord eventually replaced it.
Shortly after this the dishwasher broke. Yes, I know that as students we’re privileged to live in a house with a dishwasher, but still. The point is that it broke. That one managed to more or less fix itself, fortunately.
Then the front fell off one of the drawers in the kitchen, shortly followed by the kickboard underneath the cupboard beneath the sink. Both were, after a few weeks and a few too many phonecalls/texts, bodged back into place by the landlord.
Not so long after this, the garden fence blew down. The landlord came and took it away, and never replaced it. There is now nothing separating our garden from our (student) neighbours’.
Just before Christmas, my set of shelves fell off my bedroom wall. If I’d been in bed when it happened I probably would have suffered a broken leg, as my bed was (and still is – like I said before, I like to live on the edge) directly below them. Luckily I was at work at the time so only a couple of my things got broken. Landlord eventually put the shelves back on the wall, but I now don’t dare put anything remotely weighty on them, so they’re pretty much useless. There are still big ugly holes in the plaster from the old fixtures.
When I (and yes, I know this is own my stupid fault) knocked a jug full of water onto the bathroom floor whilst cleaning Apple Strudel’s tank, it leaked through one of the kitchen lights, and the kitchen ceiling. The landlord does not know about that one yet.
A few weeks ago, the hoover blew up. Full-on, smoke and everything. Landlord just got us a new one. Identical to the old one, and probably likely to suffer the same fate very shortly.
Currently, we have a rusty and temperamental washing machine, 4 spotlights out in the kitchen, 2 spotlights out in the bathroom, a temperamental spotlight in my room, and the dishwasher has stopped working again. One of the blinds in the front room is broken, as is one in my housemate’s room. (The same housemate whose handle fell off her window when she tried to open it). The drawer that broke in the kitchen before has broken again. My wardrobe door is decidedly dodgy and I fear for my life when I get dressed every morning. Oh, and the thing that holds up the shower head is broken and keeps coming away from the wall.
To top it all off, when I went to hang my washing out on the line the other day and take advantage of the sunshine, almost every peg I tried to use snapped in half.
All of this makes me want to say something along the lines of
House: Listen to me, honey. It will all be ok. One day you will belong to someone who actually gives a damn about you, and everything will be fixed. Properly.
If only this could be my house, I swear I’d be that someone.
It’s not you, House. It’s them. Also, no matter how shitty they make you feel, never forget that you have (functional capabilities notwithstanding) a very pretty kitchen. And your bathroom (Ikea shower [definitely] notwithstanding) is rather nice-looking too.
Narcissistic extended dwelling place based metaphors. Such fun. :’)
Here are a couple of pictures I smiled at today when I rediscovered them – of the Snow Gorilla my younger brother made last year:
Now just you try telling me that’s not awesome. :)