Irony is Seldom Absent

Today has turned out to be quite unproductive. Not so much because my day was filled with Persons from Porlock, as because of their future echoes. Many experts have written on cutting out procrastination and avoiding meeting slippage, but for me the issue is often my mind’s inability to handle antici

Water started leaking through our bathroom ceiling earlier this year. The management company’s efforts to resolve the issue were hampered by sending out several people to inspect the issue without the authority to authorise works.

As the leak was travelling inside walls in flats above ours, they didn’t track the source down for many weeks. By which time the mould in our bathroom had evolved through bleach resistance into basic sentience.

My camera was lost in the retreat from Basingrad, but this artist’s impression survives:

Cthulhu and R'yleh
Dominique SignoretCC BY SA 3.0)

This post will get to the point in the next paragraph.

The leak fixed, the cycle of inspections without works commencing began again. One month ago, the management company decided (correctly) there was no point in attempting repairs until the bathroom had dried out; so they would deliver a dehumidifier later that week and, once the room had dried out, replace all the plasterboard, coping, and plaster.

The point will be with you soon.

After one month of chasing, I managed to contact the person with authority at the management company. They indicated they would need to inspect before they could authorise anything, because the person who authorised the works no longer worked for the company.

So, the property manager was supposed to be visiting at 10:00 this morning.

Without a definite pattern of adherence to promises to bastion my thoughts, I therefore lost focus at about 9:30 am in fear they would be early.

They were actually late.

They were not here long; mostly because – whilst they can authorise works – they were not a decorator so did not know which works to authorise. However, they did indicate they would call me when they got back to the office.

Hence, still unbastioned, my ability to immerse myself in tasks was compromised by the fear of missing a telephone call.

Demonstrating that they were even unreliable in their unreliableness, they called at lunchtime to say a contractor would be coming to look at the situation late afternoon. Which restarted the cycle of future echoes.



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