Page 30 of Alice Carver Manifests Her Perfect Life
Serious doubts.
My intention is:
To suggest to Arrie that she invest in a light-therapy anti-ageing mask that I read about inVogue.
To borrow Arrie’s new light-therapy anti-ageing mask.
Date: Thursday 29 DecemberTime: 5.15pm
My thoughts and reflections:
Oh god.
I remembered to empty the fridge before I left. I forgot, however, to empty the bin. It’s carnage in there. And the smell is horrific.
At least the rats have had a good Christmas break.
Have called Drunk Stephen and he says I can stay for a few days because his flatmate is away in Scotland for Hogmanay, but an uncertain future looms. I’ve left a message with Rodentinators begging them to come before 1 January and explaining that the situation is not under ‘control’, and am now sitting on the stairs outside the flat, waiting for an Uber. I’m feeling sad and lost, like I’m being taught hard life lessons, and reminding myself ofThe Water-Babies.
Belts and braces as Mum would say.
At least things can’t get any worse.
I am grateful for:
Drunk Stephen
Date: Friday 30 DecemberTime: 1.30pm
My thoughts and reflections:
Thingscanget worse.
I have a horrible hangover, I slept badly in Drunk Stephen’s flatmate’s bed (his numerous Dungeons and Dragons figurines watching over me weren’t conducive to repose), and Aunty Margaret has just called: apparently the new tenant has a life-threatening dust allergy, so I need to make sure the flat has been thoroughly and meticulously cleaned from top to bottom. When I asked if I should email or text the cleaning bill to her, it emerged she was expectingmeto pay it and that it would be a ‘drop in the ocean’ in comparison to the rent I’ve saved for the last six months by living, for free, in her flat. She was pretty shirty really. I know that technically she has a point, but I’m starting to think I might be aligned with Aziz when it comes to the landed. I mean, Aunty Margaret has multiple properties and it’s good to share. Universal fact. (When you have something someone else wants, at least.) Anyway, I decided it was safer not to update her on the rat situation.
When I told Mum that I was feeling rather like Sara fromA Little Princess, Mum was incredibly unsympathetic, saying that it was time I started to appreciate the value of money; she clearly doesn’t know me at all because I absolutely appreciatethe value of nice things. That’s precisely why I find it hard when I have to work with Chloe from Sales with her little Michael Kors cross-body bag and her Pandora bracelet dripping with charms and why I’m friends with Drunk Stephen despite his appalling rudeness because he has impeccable taste in shoes: he also appreciates the value of nice things. But Mum is not going to understand that. Not when she hangs out with people like Sue from next door who has black gravel. At least Mum did let it drop that Aunty Margaret is particularly bad-tempered at the moment because she has a painful cut on the septum from the nasal hair trimmers Uncle Ted bought her for Christmas, which according to Aunty Margaret’s GP, should have come with a safety warning. Bloody hell. Who would want to be a GP?
Still, at leastnowthings can’t get any worse. Surely.
I am letting go of:
Getting my nails done for New Year’s Eve – Drunk Stephen says I’ll be looking at £180 plus VAT for the rats! Fucking outrageous.
Date: Saturday 31 DecemberTime: 11.15am
My thoughts and reflections:
Turns out things can get still worse.
The man from Rodentinators says that the state of the kitchen made him feel queasy, and that’s coming from someone who used to work in a chicken slaughterhouse. He says that because I didn’t follow the Rodentinators guidelines and effectively ‘courted rats’, his work today will not be covered by the initial payment. The ‘gold star’ one-stop solution is £310 + VAT and he’d recommend leaving the apartment empty for a few days afterwards – and then having a professional company in to disinfect. When I asked how bad it could really be, he said he wouldn’t even put his ex-wife in this health hazard of a flat. He says the entire place needs to be bleached. He’s recommended a friend of his who would provide a discount and probably do it for £250, so long as I don’t have a problem with supporting ex-cons.
I don’t have a problem with supporting ex-cons but I do have a problem with supporting myself – no way I can afford £250 on top of the gold treatment. So, not only do I have nowhere to live, but I now won’t be going out with Drunk Stephen to the party in Stratford after all. That £310 + VAT I’ve just paid the man is going to ruin me.
Basically, there’s no way out of this. I’m going to have to message Aunty Margaret and tell her the news: her new tenants can’t come and stay for another week because I’ve turned her flat into an uninhabitable environment. I don’t think it’s going to go down well.
I imagine things can get worse yet, so I won’t make that mistake again.
I ask the Universe:
