Warning this post is going to contain some of my more colourful language, owing to the fact that the subject matter has really made me want to rip someone’s head off
I’m having some work done on my house and as the minimum the bank would lend me was more than required, I’ve decided to have a couple of things from the “get around to it” list done. One of those things is to have an airconditioner unit installed in my bedroom. I don’t do well when it gets hot and sticky, especially when it stops me sleeping properly.
So today is the day. Two very nice gentleman arrived at my door at 9.00am this morning with all the kit and I disappeared out so I wouldn’t have to listen or see them drilling holes in my poor house wall (I’m a bit of a wimp like that).
An hour later, I come home and they’re cracking on with the job. I have my breakfast and am sitting watching TV and minding my own business when Scott tells me that my neighbour has been whining at him. Oh great.
I go outside and the “neighbour” is in his garden, whinging like hell at the guys.
“That’s a bloody eyesore”
“Don’t you need planning permission for that”
“That’s going to be right in my eyeline when I’m in my garden”
And on. And on. And on.
Now the back of his house looks at the gable wall of my house. Not exactly the countryside is it? But he’s complaining about an external inverter being in his eyeline. wants me to get it moved so that it’s on the wall behind his “tree” so he doesn’t have to look at it.
And he’s being a total cunt about it.
He talks over me. He swears. OK – not a lot. He only said “bloody” but my point is that, considering what a potty mouth I can be, I didn’t utter one single swear word, even though this cockwomble wouldn’t let me get a word in edgeways, talking over me, not listening, etc. Exhibiting the usual man with a mini penis behaviour (typical autocratic self important bully) – complete with trying to tell me I was being patronising when I asked him politely if he would allow me to finish speaking before butting in. Yes, really.
My first instinct was to tell him to go and fuck himself until he could talk to me in a more reasonable fashion. Unfortunately, that rarely achieves anything, hence adopting a more reasonable tone.
I really have got past the age where confrontation fires the synapses and I really do just want a quiet life. When he said that if the unit was left where it was “it wouldn’t be there for long” I really seriously had to fight the urge to jump off the ladder, over the fence and punch the bastard in the face. This man has no idea about compromise.
Fortunately for me, Scott (who’s doing the install) is an absolute brick: calm and collected. He’s moved it further down the wall and, so far, no whinging from the wanker over the fence.
But I am seriously, utterly, totally, thoroughly, pissed off.
And really looking forward to taking out on my trainer later when I put my boxing gloves on …