I know these days exist.
The days in which you want to scream, shoot your dog, and change bodies with the landlord.
But did you really have to go bezeerk while changing my poor window?
I am not good at DIY job, therefore I trust people professionally. When my step dad states which screw to use, I generally don't argue. When the baker gives me a too crusty baguette, though I ask for a slightly un-crispy one, I assume the baguette was the best I could afford on the whole lot.
That was before you arrived at my apartment and acted like a sociopath.
You discovered the colleague did not take the right measures for the window so instead of canceling the job, you slashed the old one it in pieces- including the cement and plaster frame around it, just to prove your point.
I tried to tell you on which planet can silicon replace chunks of cement and plaster, and you answered to mind my own business.
You happily glued the window on the frame which looked like Hiroshima after the Bomb.
I tried to be nice. I offered you coffee, I showed you where my bathroom is, and I pretended not to notice you did not wash your hands afterwards.
So tomorrow, we shall meet again. Along with your lobster-colored boss.
I shall fight with my tiny fits. And my low-cut favorite top.
Will that be enough to make the world turn in the right direction again?
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