I just had the third of the daily "I want to pack my bags and go home" moments today.
I continue
killing ants while the electrician works on the kitchen. My landlord
disappears. After 20minutes he comes back with a sofa, so that after 4 weeks in
an empty furnished flat I will finally have something to sit on.The arrival of the sofa is a big event. It does not fit throught the door and needs to be lifted through the window - three people help, some kids stand around and stare into my living room, some more people stop to watch.
Et voilà:
My landlord takes a seat - "Hardly used this sofa - comme neuf". "And" - he continues with that beaming face - "it can be converted into a bed". He demonstrates to everyone who is standing around how to turn this fantastic sofa into a bed for two. In a hurry he lets the dirty covers disapear that have probably been hidden inside since sometime in the last century.
Everybody leaves - my landlord promises to come back with two chairs. I sit on the sofa. There is a well known odour of gardenhouse and .... mice. I open the sofabed - within seconds I have found the little black pellets (I call myself an expert when it comes to mice).
Yup - mice infested smelly sofa. I don't know how to tell my landlord, who is always convinced he does the best - and for French standards he probably does - he can't understand that where I used to lived a furnished living room looks more like this.
