My boss (who is on holiday) woke me up this morning, by sending me a text message complaining that he had rung the office this morning, and no-one had answered the phone. On a Saturday. When I was trying to catch up on the sleep I haven’t been getting. Bastard. I haven’t dignified him with a response.
So, having been woken rather sooner than I would have liked, I lay in bed for a while. Then I took my coat to the cleaners. Or rather, it took me there.
Had the drunken fuckwit from the other night thrown up over my biker-style leather jacket, it would have cost me 25 quid to have it cleaned. Annoying, but ultimately affordable. But no, it was my long coat. And so it’s costing me over seventy quid, (an amount that makes a difference to my plans for the month) to get it cleaned, because it’s a softer leather (and more of it) and has to be sent away to a specialist company. And it’ll be two weeks before I get it back.
A complete and total shitehawk, I say.