I’m giving you a free upgrade!
CONGRATULATIONS! That’s a move from “you’re an arsehole but I can tolerate living with you” to “GO FUCK YOURSELF”. You know what? As far as upgrades go, on paper it does not look bad. In fact, it looks like you started off pretty badly in the first place. But in all seriousness, what it means is that you have broken the camel’s back – you have dropped at least 5 estimations in my book.
And the camel is not happy about it. At all.
Probably, what has happened really isn’t that big a deal, and in the morning I will wake up and not think about it again.
But when I left the house, I looked at that piece of mail for someone that lived here before time began. A person who none of us know in person, but know by name. The mail that continues to spray our mailbox despite our best efforts to stop it. I looked at it and thought, “you probably better re-address that or throw it in the bin, because whatzisname is gonna get cranky about it sitting there, and while you are thinking about it, you need to find a spot to put that newspaper away”.
Here’s the thing though. That newspaper is the weekend newspaper. And what if the other housemate wants to read it before the weekend is over? Or what happens is Mrs John Harolld O’mailitude comes to collect their mail? Hey? HEY?!? Would that be such a big fucking deal?
Now, because I looked at the mail and the newspaper and had that thought, because I knew exactly where is was when I left the house, I know that when I came back it was not in the same place. I know that the paper on top is the same part of the paper that was on top before. Only now, it is in a different part of the living room. A “cleaner” part. And the mail is no longer on the edge of the table, but in the middle of the table. You moved it! From the edge of the table, to the middle of the table! The middle! perfectly in the middle.
So I’m sorry, but you, and your perfect OCD house, can just go and upgrade yourselves to a “go fuck yourself” while I start to looking for somewhere else to live.