Bad week

Well my week has sucked how about yours?

It seemed a fairly innocuous start. I met up with a the plumber at the flat on Monday to see how things were progressing. And progressing they were. Kitchen units have been fitted, the flooring is down, plastering work had been finished. The end, I dared to think, was in sight at last. The electrician was also present, to do some wiring work to connect my various kitchen appliances. And it's here that I had the first inkling that things weren't going continue as smoothly as I'd have liked. I won't retell the entire conversation the the electrician, but suffice it to say that the words "death trap" came up more often than I'd have liked. When asked if I wanted all things electrical rectified, I blithely nodded, being somewhat too shell shocked to come up with a more intelligent response.

It was the following day that the bad news really began to sink in. I received a call from the electrician. Apparently the work involved was going to require £800 of parts (the bulk of the cost due to a pesky fuseboard), and £1200 in total. I think I actually laughed out loud at that point.

It wasn't the sound of happy laughter.

But of course it gets better. The story at least - it's something of a truism that the worse the event, the better the story that can be spun out of it. It turned out, in a phone call the following day, that I'd misunderstood the electrician. The £1200 was not the total cost of the operation, but was for the labour alone. The whole cost was in fact £2000.

Needless to say this I didn't receive this news well.

In the midst of this particular trauma I ventured down to London for a couple of days, for my monthly catch up with work, during which I generally remind people that I still exist. My manager is currently under a lot of pressure to deliver results and he's been throwing more and more work my way, regardless of the fact that I have a large project underway whose deadline isn't budging despite the extra attention I have to devote to whatever whim has striken his fancy on any given day. It was a mildly depressing experience.

Then I returned home to discover that my Mum took it upon herself to throw out half of my clothing. Admittedly it was clothing I didn't wear very often, that was tucked away in a box, (because I didn't anywhere to put it once unpacked) but that's largely because I kept it for special occasions, nice shirt and trousers and that sort of things. I still don't know why she did it, and frustratingly she hasn't been able to explain it either. I trawled around the charity shop where it had been deposited, but found no trace of it.

Then I visited my flat today and found out that the ceiling above the kitchen had collapsed, leaving a mound of rubble strewn across my nice new kitchen and floor, an thick layer of choking dust on every conceivable surface, and a disconcertingly large hole where a ceiling ought to be. But at least in this case I had a silver lining to fall back on, at least in this instance my insurance would cover the damage...

...if I had any insurance. Looking into how I'd go about making a claim I found that my insurance company (recommended to me by a mortgage advisor - let that be a lesson) went into liquidation about 18 months ago without my noticing.

I believe the appropriate expression, if you'll allow me a minor profanity, is "bugger"

And the week's not quite over yet, a thought which brings me absolutely no comfort at all.