Something terrible happened to me yesterday. As I was sitting in my bedroom, minding my own business, I smelled a rather peculiar odor coming from the kitchen. I had just gotten from work, and I was feeling really tired. I had put an oiled pan on the stove and forgot about it. When I came back because of the smoke, I quickly deduced what was happening. Well not right away, because of the shock of what I saw, but still.
My whole kitchen was on fire. It was like the 7th circle of hell. I honestly did not know what to do. My smoke detector had burned out a long time ago, and I should have bought a new one when there was still time. I had a fire extinguisher in the car, but that was miles away from here. I called 999 right away. I gave the nice lady my address and waited for the fireman to show up.
They were at my place in the blink of an eye. Let me tell you, our tax money is going where it is supposed to, bravo. They put out the fire, and told me that if I wanted to claim my insurance, I would probably had to get rid of all the evidence that I did it myself. This was a pretty difficult task, but I had no choice. This was a brand new kitchen, and I am not made of money.
I did what I had to do, and than God everything went according to plan. I got a full settlement from the insurance people, plus something extra for all the trouble. How great is that! Next day I went to see if I could find my old contractor. His name was Garry, and he, as most contactors, was gay as a cigarette. He was pretty good yay, and I found that he can do even a better job, if he had the right initiative.
He did a fantastic job. He was done in practically no time at all, two week and it was as good as new. I paid the man and went on with my life. The only trouble I had was that the neighbours though that the whole flat was on fire. This is quite funny, because last renovation we did, we made sure that the isolation we had on our flat was heat and flame resistant.
Our remarkable landlady, Ms Flavesham, told me that if I did not get my act together, she would be force to drive me out of my own home. This, of course is a complete waste of good words, for she did not have the slightest idea of how these thing worked. The thing is that even if I like to help her out, you know tell her that everything is going to be OK that I am sorry and whatnot, but I can’t. That old bat has been riding me ever since I moved in. Grouchy old had! I was thinking of pushing her down the stairs a time or two, but later I decided against it.
My whole kitchen was on fire. It was like the 7th circle of hell. I honestly did not know what to do. My smoke detector had burned out a long time ago, and I should have bought a new one when there was still time. I had a fire extinguisher in the car, but that was miles away from here. I called 999 right away. I gave the nice lady my address and waited for the fireman to show up.
They were at my place in the blink of an eye. Let me tell you, our tax money is going where it is supposed to, bravo. They put out the fire, and told me that if I wanted to claim my insurance, I would probably had to get rid of all the evidence that I did it myself. This was a pretty difficult task, but I had no choice. This was a brand new kitchen, and I am not made of money.
I did what I had to do, and than God everything went according to plan. I got a full settlement from the insurance people, plus something extra for all the trouble. How great is that! Next day I went to see if I could find my old contractor. His name was Garry, and he, as most contactors, was gay as a cigarette. He was pretty good yay, and I found that he can do even a better job, if he had the right initiative.
He did a fantastic job. He was done in practically no time at all, two week and it was as good as new. I paid the man and went on with my life. The only trouble I had was that the neighbours though that the whole flat was on fire. This is quite funny, because last renovation we did, we made sure that the isolation we had on our flat was heat and flame resistant.
Our remarkable landlady, Ms Flavesham, told me that if I did not get my act together, she would be force to drive me out of my own home. This, of course is a complete waste of good words, for she did not have the slightest idea of how these thing worked. The thing is that even if I like to help her out, you know tell her that everything is going to be OK that I am sorry and whatnot, but I can’t. That old bat has been riding me ever since I moved in. Grouchy old had! I was thinking of pushing her down the stairs a time or two, but later I decided against it.