Another bullshit story
A bullshit story form The Siren, this time.
So... I got a call last Sunday evening from The Siren (AKA the evil one(TM) or the ex-wife). Siren tells me she has tried, but is ultimately unable, to disassemble a table I bought and assembled a few years ago. She is moving house at the end of the week and it needs to be done as a mater of urgency.
I made the usual 'not interested' noises. After all, it's not like this is my home, my furniture, or my problem any more is it? I'm divorced from the woman now, and I moved out nearly three years ago!
So upon realising she is getting nowhere, she offers to return my paintings.
Background: When I moved out, I had nowhere to put my stuff (I moved back into my parents place for a couple of months), my paintings* got left behind. They were intended to be left behind only for a short while, then The Siren decided she liked them, and decided she wanted to keep them. Being Mr. Nice (but not this Mr. Nice) and for the sake of the kids, I decided not to press the issue and cause a big scene. Back then I was too emotionally raw to sustain a fight anyway, and the kids were far too close to a nasty (read violent, (and no I wasn't, she was)) separation to be coping with even more crap.
I wanted my paintings back, so I agree to turn up, but only as and when it suited me, at some point this week. After all I have Sandy staying with me at home, and I want to spend quality time with her, not doing grunt work for The Siren.
Today, Sandy headed off home until the weekend, so after work, I decided to head over The Siren's place and sort out the table.
Siren was in bed, having spent the whole day there with a sore throat, yes that's right, bed ridden with a fucking sore throat! Not only was she in bed, but it turns out that Angel and Murray had not been to school today either, as Murray had a sore throat (yes a fucking sore throat, stopped him attending school!). Angel on the other hand, was just peachy, not a cough, sneeze, drip, ache, or unusual temperature in sight. Yes that's right, she was perfectly fucking healthy, and had still not gone to school...
Just for the record, Angel has two new cousins through The Siren's new marriage, that live no more than 5 minutes walk away. Both of these kids attend the same school as Angel, and they are both taken there by one of their parents. All The Siren had to do was pick up the sodding phone!
In the end, it took me all of five minutes to take the table to bits. I took the glass top off (held with five plastic/rubber suckers from underneath), removed the two screws from each draw keeping the draw attached to the rails each side, and finally loosened the four restraining bolts and took the plastic inserts from behind them to dismantle the frame.
(In a fit of anal retention, I even bagged up the four screws and four plastic inserts and taped the bag to the frame, and wrote on the masking tape that I used, that a large Phillips screwdriver and a 5mm Allen key were required to reassemble.)
Now I shall await the promised delivery of my paintings.
I speak to Angel and Murray every other day when that are not with me, and part of our conversation typically revolves around their day at school on school evenings. Far too often, I hear that one or other, or even both of them have not attended school as a result of some minor sniffle or stomach upset. I am worried about the kids' attendance at school, so I am going to contact Angel's school and find out how many times she has 'sick days', I don't want my kid getting a patchy education because her mother can't walk with a sore throat or pick up a phone to a relative for help! Dependent upon the outcome, I may press the issue with Murray too, although in this case I am unsure of where I stand legally, as he is not even my step-son anymore, since the Siren remarried.
And the bullshit story: That The Siren had even attempted to take the table to bits, a bloody four-year-old kid with the right tools could have done the job (OK, maybe with a little adult help to remove the heavy toughened glass top). And no doubt she intends to tell Angel's school some bullshit story to explain away yet another of Angel's absences.
* Painted by a friend, whom I commissioned the work from, in order to get him out of a financial bind, and to get him off his arse and painting again. And who now knows moderate success as an artist. So now you know why I am attached to them.
So... I got a call last Sunday evening from The Siren (AKA the evil one(TM) or the ex-wife). Siren tells me she has tried, but is ultimately unable, to disassemble a table I bought and assembled a few years ago. She is moving house at the end of the week and it needs to be done as a mater of urgency.
I made the usual 'not interested' noises. After all, it's not like this is my home, my furniture, or my problem any more is it? I'm divorced from the woman now, and I moved out nearly three years ago!
So upon realising she is getting nowhere, she offers to return my paintings.
Background: When I moved out, I had nowhere to put my stuff (I moved back into my parents place for a couple of months), my paintings* got left behind. They were intended to be left behind only for a short while, then The Siren decided she liked them, and decided she wanted to keep them. Being Mr. Nice (but not this Mr. Nice) and for the sake of the kids, I decided not to press the issue and cause a big scene. Back then I was too emotionally raw to sustain a fight anyway, and the kids were far too close to a nasty (read violent, (and no I wasn't, she was)) separation to be coping with even more crap.
I wanted my paintings back, so I agree to turn up, but only as and when it suited me, at some point this week. After all I have Sandy staying with me at home, and I want to spend quality time with her, not doing grunt work for The Siren.
Today, Sandy headed off home until the weekend, so after work, I decided to head over The Siren's place and sort out the table.
Siren was in bed, having spent the whole day there with a sore throat, yes that's right, bed ridden with a fucking sore throat! Not only was she in bed, but it turns out that Angel and Murray had not been to school today either, as Murray had a sore throat (yes a fucking sore throat, stopped him attending school!). Angel on the other hand, was just peachy, not a cough, sneeze, drip, ache, or unusual temperature in sight. Yes that's right, she was perfectly fucking healthy, and had still not gone to school...
Just for the record, Angel has two new cousins through The Siren's new marriage, that live no more than 5 minutes walk away. Both of these kids attend the same school as Angel, and they are both taken there by one of their parents. All The Siren had to do was pick up the sodding phone!
In the end, it took me all of five minutes to take the table to bits. I took the glass top off (held with five plastic/rubber suckers from underneath), removed the two screws from each draw keeping the draw attached to the rails each side, and finally loosened the four restraining bolts and took the plastic inserts from behind them to dismantle the frame.
(In a fit of anal retention, I even bagged up the four screws and four plastic inserts and taped the bag to the frame, and wrote on the masking tape that I used, that a large Phillips screwdriver and a 5mm Allen key were required to reassemble.)
Now I shall await the promised delivery of my paintings.
I speak to Angel and Murray every other day when that are not with me, and part of our conversation typically revolves around their day at school on school evenings. Far too often, I hear that one or other, or even both of them have not attended school as a result of some minor sniffle or stomach upset. I am worried about the kids' attendance at school, so I am going to contact Angel's school and find out how many times she has 'sick days', I don't want my kid getting a patchy education because her mother can't walk with a sore throat or pick up a phone to a relative for help! Dependent upon the outcome, I may press the issue with Murray too, although in this case I am unsure of where I stand legally, as he is not even my step-son anymore, since the Siren remarried.
And the bullshit story: That The Siren had even attempted to take the table to bits, a bloody four-year-old kid with the right tools could have done the job (OK, maybe with a little adult help to remove the heavy toughened glass top). And no doubt she intends to tell Angel's school some bullshit story to explain away yet another of Angel's absences.
* Painted by a friend, whom I commissioned the work from, in order to get him out of a financial bind, and to get him off his arse and painting again. And who now knows moderate success as an artist. So now you know why I am attached to them.
posted by C at 9:54 pm
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