No sex or violence, just bad language. You have been warned....
Richard came round to help out with some advice today, and he reminded me that the joints for the waste pipe needed sticking with special glue to seal them, a pot of which he'd left behind for that very purpose. I spotted it only the other day, and thought, "What the hell is that for?" It's for sticking the f***ing waste pipes together you f***ing t***er, which are now f***ing sealed be-f***ing-hind the f***ing skirting boards, that's f***ing what f***ing for, you f***ing stupid git! So I had to f***ing saw a f***ing piece out of my f***ing beautiful pro-f***ing-fessional-looking skirting boards so I could get at the f***ing b***ard s**ding joints and f***ing stick them. B***ocks.
Here is the offending joint, now stuck. I will try to mend it all as invisibly as possible, but thanks to my own f***ing crap memory (oh yes, it all came flooding back when Richard mentioned it!) I will always know there's a horrible bodge job lurking behind the washbasin pedestal. I wonder what else the last four months of geared turbofanery have wiped from my brain...
2 comments:
Ouch. Bet that hasn't helped your trapped nerves at all.
Here's a little tale to try and make you feel better. The very self-same sealant failed on our shower just as my man was ridding himself of his post-tennis stink. Funnily enough, it was the last time J9 came over. We both stood in the garage and watched aghast as the entire shower contents poured over the bonnet of the car. If the convertible roof had been open at the time there would have been tears.
Because of my broken ankle, J9 offered to run upstairs to the bathroom and tell S to turn the shower off. Luckily we thought the better of it. A man's dignity needs protecting.
There's a first for everything.... J9, concerned about as man's dignity???!!???!?!?
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