Monday, 15 March 2010

Dear Chest Infection

Hey! Hi! Sup?
Do you think that maybe perhaps we could have a discussion vis a vis your apparent desire to make your previously temporary residence permanent? Only, and I mean no offence, but you're not really my favourite tenant. I mean, ok, you're not quite as bad as A.B was. There was no way SHE was getting her tenancy deposit back, it's just that well, we never really agreed on you moving in, did we? You kind of took it upon yourself and I didn't really put up a fight like maybe I should have, but I was tired and everyone said it would only be a temporary arrangement. So I thought 'Hey man, I can be cool, I can be hip, I can be down with it' and I thought I'd let it slide. But now I'm getting a little ticked off. It was one thing to break all the pipes in my sinus', one thing to clog up my lungs like Chewbacca taking a nap in the shower, one thing to do that weird trick where everytime I stood up the room tipped upside down (how did you manage that, by the way? I must know. Excellent dinner party trick.) I could be a good sport. I could grin and bear it for a week or two. I could keep refilling the mug with honey and lemon tea and pretending I didn't notice you keeping me up all night and coughing in my baby's face.
But really, it's just gone too far now.
Five and a half weeks!
Five and a half weeks is not 'crashing just a couple of nights til I get my own place sorted'. Five and a half weeks is not 'I know a guy with a spare room, I just need to save some money for a deposit'. Five and a half weeks is almost squatters right and you know what? I am just NOT cool with this anymore.
Look. I still want to be friends, but I feel you're taking advantage of my generosity here. I know I should have called it quits when you took 4% of my body weight. I probably should have spoken up when my voice went, voice was gone. And yeah, you could say it was my fault for not saying anything when I spent the entire night coughing/retching in the bathroom so that I wouldn't wake Mr A and A.B up, but I was trying to be nice. I was trying to be a good fucking Samaritan, ok? OK??

I'm sorry it's come to this, but I'm afraid I'm asking you to leave. Now. Or I really am going to call the police.
Or, at least, get Mr A to do it, since I seem to have lost my voice again....

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