Nine days and counting until I am outta the Flea Market. But I am here to tell you, this place is falling apart and it's nothing we are doing. Just because I can not stand the place doesn't mean I am deliberately treating things badly. It is just a case of bum luck, bad timing, whatever you call it.
Two weeks ago the washer stopped working. Last night the freezer stopped working. Thankfully, I have successfully cracked myself into the laundry room but it takes me three hours to do the laundry every four days! Thank God for Mark Levin podcasts.
I pulled down a shade, it refuses to go back up. The ironing board, which had some jimmy rig repair, fell apart. I am truly afraid of what else can self destruct in the next nine days. I keep having bad visuals of us on some Swedish version of Judge Judy.
No freezer means no ice...for nine long days. I feel like I am camping.