Lets be honest - moving into a new place sounds fantastic at first. Bigger rooms, bigger garden, loads of ideas on how you are going to fill the new spaces. This was tee'd up to be the month of painting, decorating and settling into a cozy new environment. It was destined to be month where it all came together and we could kick back, soak it all up, and get back onto the golf course.
Instead, what we ended up with was one (i would refer to them as 'earth-shattering', but for fear of being labeled a dramatist by the readers of this blog, i'll settle for 'major') disaster after another.
In no particular order of importance, lets start with the alarm. I had an alarm put into the house during the last week of Jan, and after surviving two days of installation and having my paving ripped up to make way for the outdoor beams, I was told that all was in working order. "Here's the technical manual sir - you'll have to program the LCD keypads yourself - its after 5pm on a Friday, and we're out of here". In retrospect, it was probably a good thing they did leave the manual with me, as I bet you that I could now program that system better than any of their technicians could. Anyway, that's not the point. The point is that the system wasn't working properly. After a bit of testing, I discovered that none of the 'panic' buttons placed throughout the house actually worked. Two aggressive phone calls to the alarm company later, and a technician rocks up at the door. He proceeds to cut through a bunch a wire in the roof, and reconnect some new ones, and promptly leaves. Then we discover that the door mag and passive in the lounge don't work. Another phone call threatening cancellation of the contract, and two days later, another technician pitches up to fix this latest problem. So far so good, but I have to say that along with tow truck drivers, I now consider alarm company salespeople to be absolute bottom feeders.
Following the alarm theatrics, I wake up last Saturday morning ready to take on all the action and excitement that the kick-off of the Super 14 has to throw at me. Its been a while since the world cup, and I'm having rugga withdrawal. Proceed to tv room with cup of milo in hand, ready to take my seat, and get my weekly dose of Rugby Build Up. Switch on the tv - no signal. Reboot the decoder - no signal. Get onto the roof to check the LNB - no signal. Spent half the morning dismantling the dish and reassembling - no signal. Eventually I get into my car and drive to the nearest audio shop to get them to do a Saturday call out (which they at first refuse to do). After another 2 hour wait, a new LNB and R550 later I have a signal. Rugby is all over for the morning, and but that time, it was the last thing I felt like.
Incident number three is a real treat though. Last Tuesday morning I drive down the driveway and off i got to work. I get about 1km down the road and my power steering goes. K calls me to say that there is hydraulic fluid all over the garage floor. I pull into the nearest garage to top up - no stock. I go to the next garage, and I kid you not - no stock. THIRD garage later - I buy 2 bottles of hydraulic fluid, thinking that this will sort it out. I get another 1 km down the road and run out of fluid. Anyway, regardless to say, I limp the car to the nearest Audi dealership, and dump it there. 2 days later I get a call from the workshop manager - advising me that the damage amounts to around R40k! Not exactly what I'm going to do to solve this little dilemma.
Oh yeah - its been a fun month and I haven't even mentioned the countless other issues - trenches being dug up for sewerage pipes, irrigation pipes that have had garden forks put through them, water pumps that stopped working, the electric fencing that I had to have repaired, and the disappointment of not having K's folks come and stay with us.
Let's look on the bright side though - only 3 days left in Feb. Then we're into March...the month where things come together, we get to kick back, relax, and take up golf again :-)
