Sad isn’t it, when the only excitement one can conjure up is a new Tumble Dryer. My faithful old Bosch made Tumble Dryer decided to “stop/start/stop/start” on me, it became annoying going back and forth trying to get this machine to work. Even though I had it insured it was rather old and I just felt once fixed it would go wrong again, as it had been repaired twice before. I had the machine for quite a few years, so I really can’t complain too much about it.
So Out with the Old and In with the New, not such a large drum this time, and not so expensive. My Son brought the new machine for me, a “Beko”, first Black machine I have had. It arrived and the delivery chaps unpacked it and plugged it in for me. It was all so shiny and smart, and really looks good, I am so pleased with it, especially as it works like a treat.
So imagine my surprise, or not, but definitely holding back my temper and tears, when this morning putting items in the drum, I noticed the top of the machine and there they were, what you may ask SCRATCHES but not just any old scratches, these were done with finger nails. Now no way did it come from me, because of health probs my nails are all short. I know where the scratches came from they were done very early this morning I’m talking 5-5.30 and the vicious b…h that done them, my so called sister who lives in my house, regrettably (long story), and she has what I call Tallens, the nails are so long she doesn’t do any cleaning, she never has, the nails come first – they always have they always will.
This is not the first time she has done such a thing and I doubt it will be the last, and why does she do it well to start a Row, and I won’t give her the pleasure – I don’t talk to her. The House is rather large she has her own rooms, I totally ignore her. Terrible way to live, thanks to my late Husband and his ignoring my advice and that of our Solicitor. I have paintings, one that was made especially for me, a Christmas gift some years ago from my Sons. She tore her nails right across the lower half of the painting, my Sons advised me “say nothing, do nothing” I did precisely that, but everytime I look at it breaks my heart. The painting holds special happy memories of holidays with my Sons in Ireland.
I know its a tumble dryer and perhaps I should not be upset but I am, its my property, her hate her spite. She is a worry, she’s been violent before, I am deaf on one side because of her fists, I don’t trust her in any way. She stole my inheritance from my Father, its not the money its the fact my Father worked hard all his life and what he had to leave was to be split between the two of us, she stole the lot.
I wish it had not been my old tumble dryer that was taken away, I wish it had been her. Well thats my moan for a Friday.