a waterfall binne in my huis

kan jy dit glo? oh November, the month of madness. What with our geysey deciding to burst at a time when we actually decided to move out of our 80-year old house. It seems the house, like any relationship, does not want us to leave without scaring us emotionally. So my poor friend, lets call her "the housemate" had to contend with water gushing from the broken geyser all over the wooden floors and leaking so heavily from the roof that it could only rival Victoria Falls in it's intensity as the water made it way, through the ceiling from upstairs into the kitchen, where the housemate was washing dishes. Our landlord, who is a bit of a drama horse, came though in a panic, pacing up and down the stairs saying something incoherent about the wooden floors. "my wooden fLOORS!!!!". Ah the madness. The insurance guys came, and the electrician, and the moisture extractors and whoever else felt like randomly walking into the house under the guise of "fixing" something. My bedroom had to stay open so they can plug in these moisture extractors and as I sat at work I imagined these fat electricians going through my photos and clothes and lying (sweat and all) on my clean sheets, while they take a break. So now, the old hag (our beloved house) needs to be re-painted, re-wired and whatever else is necessary to make it habbitable again. All this just in time for Christmas Silly Season, when everyone remembers that they have a Nemesis in Cape Town and want to come stay over, FOR FREE. The housemate and i laughed about this as we looked at the spectacular view we have of the harbour, drinking black coffee and thinking of how fitting Sarah Vaughn's song "black Coffee" fits in with the mood we were in.