Christina:I am having a very angry week. It's not PMT; the reasons for my rage are perfectly just. The main culprit is Vodafone España, the company which provides me with access to the internet. They disconnected me a week ago because I hadn't paid my bill (oops) but I've paid it now (twice). Will and I have spent most of the week in the Vodafone shop around the corner which is officially the Place I Hate Most in the World, and it's mainly because of a particular po-faced employee who would sooner shove a SIM card up her arse than help you.
We've also been on the phone to their customer service deparment which involves being on hold a lot, listening to an intensely irritating tune that sounds like something you'd hear in Clinton Cards with a bit of Right Said Fred's Deeply Dippy thrown in for good measure. At the time of going to press, I am still internet-less which is so annoying as I could really do with wasting some time on Facebook.
The other source of my disquiet is Will's Clothes Volcano. There's a wardrobe in our spare room. In this wardrobe, I store my clothes. But Will's side of the wardrobe is empty because he keeps his clothes on the chairs and on the floor. Naturally. It started with an innocent jumper hung on the back of a chair which has kept on growing, a bit like the magic porridge pot in the fairytale of the same name. No longer can the chair cope with the groaning weight of Will's vestments and the Clothes Volcano is spewing its molten, textile lava through the flat, taking in swathes of floorspace, leaving no floor tile unscathed.
After a lot of nagging on my part, Will put his clothes in the wardrobe yesterday but I know it won't be long before they're back out. The final straw will come when I find a sock in the fridge. You have been warned, Will. I am a woman on the edge (until I can get back on Facebook).