Okay so...
Yeah, I know, I lied. But christ, I don't have any sofas, now I'm meant to live without therapy via blogging? I don't think so. (Some of the deleted posts may come back if I feel like it over time, but this a stressful time and place for me right now and honestly I can't be arsed.)
Right, so here's the deal.
My flat is a glorified death trap. The bathroom floor is mouldy, as in green and slightly fluffy. I was just lying there on the floor thinking "Woe unto me being hungover" and moaning faintly, when I realised that as ill as I was, the bathroom smelt really funky. So, about two days later when eventually I'd managed to recover, I lifted the bathroom carpet and discovered a colony growing out of the chipboard.
Those of you who know the slightest thing about building, surveying, generally manual labour type bathroom fitting (obviously not me but my dad told me) will know that chipboard is about the stupidest thing you could put down in a bathroom. It's going to get damp, go mouldy, smell icky, and eventually just collapse. Nice.
So, as a rightfully outraged tenant, I phone up the estate agents, bitch and whinge, and beg for the floor to be fixed. And then while I'm on the phone, tactfully remind him that he'd promised me a new sofa set before we moved into the flat four months earlier (that being the one condition upon which I agreed to live in the place), and that said sofa set had not subsequently arrived.
To cut a long, and very much agonising story short, the agency did absolute fuck all about said floor or sofa set, and I got upset. So we phoned the council, and they got upset too, and we wrote the agency a very professional and ridiculously outraged letter demanding work be done within a week. Three weeks later I'm walking back to the flat, and as I'm walking towards it I realise that the front door is open. I'm the only one in Edinburgh with a key at this point and I'm pretty sure that I wouldn't be seeing it open at this angle had I been inside the flat. Inside is a rather large Bulgarian wandering around our furnitureless flat, he informs me (there are hand movements involved as his English is less than adequate) that he is there to remove the sofas. I ask him to continue and to bring the new sofas and chairs in. He tells me he doesn't have new sofas, he's just removing.
Phone up agency, sofas will be in the flat within two days according to the guy I spoke to. That was a week and three days ago. I've been sat on the floor to watch TV ever since. I'm not especially impressed.
Anyway, apart from the green bathroom floor and lack of furniture in previously advertised FULLY FURNISHED flat, I'm okay except for the fact that yet again I'm being threatened with being kicked out of uni, and my boyfriend is working with me which is just plain weird. I'd like to tell you things are great, but as per usual I'm on the cusp of falling apart and there's only a very fine piece of thread holding me back. Luckily for me, I have a very good habit of bouncing back, and I can always find someone to bounce on to get there.
So, as sporadically and badly as I will write in this, for now I think I'm here for a little while longer, though I can't really be sure.
Right, so here's the deal.
My flat is a glorified death trap. The bathroom floor is mouldy, as in green and slightly fluffy. I was just lying there on the floor thinking "Woe unto me being hungover" and moaning faintly, when I realised that as ill as I was, the bathroom smelt really funky. So, about two days later when eventually I'd managed to recover, I lifted the bathroom carpet and discovered a colony growing out of the chipboard.
Those of you who know the slightest thing about building, surveying, generally manual labour type bathroom fitting (obviously not me but my dad told me) will know that chipboard is about the stupidest thing you could put down in a bathroom. It's going to get damp, go mouldy, smell icky, and eventually just collapse. Nice.
So, as a rightfully outraged tenant, I phone up the estate agents, bitch and whinge, and beg for the floor to be fixed. And then while I'm on the phone, tactfully remind him that he'd promised me a new sofa set before we moved into the flat four months earlier (that being the one condition upon which I agreed to live in the place), and that said sofa set had not subsequently arrived.
To cut a long, and very much agonising story short, the agency did absolute fuck all about said floor or sofa set, and I got upset. So we phoned the council, and they got upset too, and we wrote the agency a very professional and ridiculously outraged letter demanding work be done within a week. Three weeks later I'm walking back to the flat, and as I'm walking towards it I realise that the front door is open. I'm the only one in Edinburgh with a key at this point and I'm pretty sure that I wouldn't be seeing it open at this angle had I been inside the flat. Inside is a rather large Bulgarian wandering around our furnitureless flat, he informs me (there are hand movements involved as his English is less than adequate) that he is there to remove the sofas. I ask him to continue and to bring the new sofas and chairs in. He tells me he doesn't have new sofas, he's just removing.
Phone up agency, sofas will be in the flat within two days according to the guy I spoke to. That was a week and three days ago. I've been sat on the floor to watch TV ever since. I'm not especially impressed.
Anyway, apart from the green bathroom floor and lack of furniture in previously advertised FULLY FURNISHED flat, I'm okay except for the fact that yet again I'm being threatened with being kicked out of uni, and my boyfriend is working with me which is just plain weird. I'd like to tell you things are great, but as per usual I'm on the cusp of falling apart and there's only a very fine piece of thread holding me back. Luckily for me, I have a very good habit of bouncing back, and I can always find someone to bounce on to get there.
So, as sporadically and badly as I will write in this, for now I think I'm here for a little while longer, though I can't really be sure.
Labels: Buggrit
