Here is my "funny" story of the day -well, funny in retrospect, I suppose.
Yesterday, Mr. U received an email requesting permission to enter the apartment in order to do some work today (Wednesday). It seems that the Embassy is upgrading our gas ovens to safer models -no pilot lights anymore, apparently. Naturally, the answer was "of course you can come in to provide us with a brand new appliance, TYVM". The old model was anywhere between 25-75 degrees off depending on the temperature you wanted to set it at. (Making cookies was a challenge, I tell you.) I have resorted to a guessing game and an oven thermometer in order to set the desired heat level. This new one has a digital display so it should be easier to set than the current roulette dial. I'm thrilled. It gives me an excuse to try new recipes and bake because I have to test out the oven, don't I? No specific ETA was given for the work to be done (kind of like Rogers...some time between 8AM and 4PM) so I had to be up, dressed and ready for visitors first thing in the morning because you never know if/when they will be by. No big deal there. I am on school break and have no problem with the workers. They are always sweet and polite with me.
So, around 9:45AM, the guys came to swap out the appliance (yay). When they moved the stove out to change it...the floor behind the stove was a TOTAL NIGHTMARE. The guy's comment was: "Oh, only 2 mouse...usually three. This is good." I almost died on the spot. The inventory consisted of used tea bags, some dessicated jelly candies, 2 squashed and decomposing mice, mouse droppings (naturally), popcorn and a crash of dust rhinos.
I have spent the past 30 minutes scrubbing, disinfecting and wiping down the space where the new stove will go. I almost puked a couple of times. They should be back up in a few minutes to install the new stove which is sitting in the middle of the kitchen. If it actually works, I'm making cookies.
My hands still smell like bleach.
GROSS
(There are no photos of the mess so just forget about it. It was all I could do to keep my breakfast down while cleaning everything. I know, I know, my father would have taken a million photos but I didn't inherit his strong stomach.)
Yesterday, Mr. U received an email requesting permission to enter the apartment in order to do some work today (Wednesday). It seems that the Embassy is upgrading our gas ovens to safer models -no pilot lights anymore, apparently. Naturally, the answer was "of course you can come in to provide us with a brand new appliance, TYVM". The old model was anywhere between 25-75 degrees off depending on the temperature you wanted to set it at. (Making cookies was a challenge, I tell you.) I have resorted to a guessing game and an oven thermometer in order to set the desired heat level. This new one has a digital display so it should be easier to set than the current roulette dial. I'm thrilled. It gives me an excuse to try new recipes and bake because I have to test out the oven, don't I? No specific ETA was given for the work to be done (kind of like Rogers...some time between 8AM and 4PM) so I had to be up, dressed and ready for visitors first thing in the morning because you never know if/when they will be by. No big deal there. I am on school break and have no problem with the workers. They are always sweet and polite with me.
So, around 9:45AM, the guys came to swap out the appliance (yay). When they moved the stove out to change it...the floor behind the stove was a TOTAL NIGHTMARE. The guy's comment was: "Oh, only 2 mouse...usually three. This is good." I almost died on the spot. The inventory consisted of used tea bags, some dessicated jelly candies, 2 squashed and decomposing mice, mouse droppings (naturally), popcorn and a crash of dust rhinos.
I have spent the past 30 minutes scrubbing, disinfecting and wiping down the space where the new stove will go. I almost puked a couple of times. They should be back up in a few minutes to install the new stove which is sitting in the middle of the kitchen. If it actually works, I'm making cookies.
My hands still smell like bleach.
GROSS
(There are no photos of the mess so just forget about it. It was all I could do to keep my breakfast down while cleaning everything. I know, I know, my father would have taken a million photos but I didn't inherit his strong stomach.)
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