MONDAY
I'm soooooooore. Lady did a number on me yesterday! My chronic wrist pain is back too. But yeah, I think I am still a little more limber than when I went in. My stomach pain is worse again though.
In the afternoon George comes home from work so I can go to the doctor about my stomach pain. I decide to go to one of the doctors at Island Hospital at Maggie T's (our local expat expert) recommendation. The woman on the phone says I don't need an appointment, just to show up before 5pm with my passport to register. George drives me over and it's just before 5. He leaves, and I go in. Island Hospital is the new, glorious hospital that all the great doctors moved to, leaving the other, lesser hospitals behind. So I've heard. But when I walk in, it looks more like an old, worn out airport, with ticket counters, lines of people, and lots of seats. We're just missing the luggage and the airline uniforms. I go to register, and just as I begin the process I learn that there are no general doctors here, only specialists. I'll have to go somewhere else to see someone about my stomach pains. Great. I call George back.
We're supposed to get our sofa tonight. George has vowed that he will call them at 7 on the dot if they're not here. Of course, they're not. He calls. We play the same game again that we played on Saturday; they keep telling us it'll be here within the hour and a little over an hour later we call back. They tell us to wait and that the delivery guys are backed up, but will definitely come tonight. The real reason for the delay is probably our incessant calling and complaining.
It's pushing 10pm and George is asked to meet them at the Gurney Plaza McDonald's, because they can't find us. He does. They come back, and Yaaaaaayyyyy! We have a sofa! They bring it in (without taking off their shoes, how rude!!) and plop it down in our TV area and start unwrapping it. It's a nice cream-colored microfiber. They unwrap the newspaper-covered feet and screw them into the base. George isn't watching, but I am. There seems to be something slap-dash about all this. I see some struggles with the screwing, and there is some unscrewing and rescrewing. There is also some head scratching when one guy can't find where one of the feet goes. The feet aren't evenly placed, and I'm really pretty surprised to see how unconcerned they are with how they're handling such a light-colored fabric. Sure enough, on closer inspection, finger prints! When I show them to one of the guys, he wipes it a little, shrugs, and shows me his hands and says, "dirty." Um, yeah, you deliver furniture and you were just handling newsprint, did you not think they might get dirty?
"Well, what are we going to do about it?" I ask. More shrugs and a nervous smile and that's that. George calls the company back. We're also noticing some other damage. They tell us they will come fix the couch tomorrow.
After they leave, George notices that one of the feet is totally bent back and useless. It's broken. The foot that they didn't know where to place? Ended up not being placed. They must have taken it with them. We prop up the broken leg. It's nice to have a sofa. Even if it's shoddier than shoddy. We cuddle up and watch a movie on our TV, which I figured out we can do using our Playstation.
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2 comments:
Surely sofa's have one leg in each corner - how difficult can it be?!
hope you've found a doctor :)
You'd think it'd be simple. Actually it's a sofa in three pieces. And one or two of the pieces has 6 legs instead of 4. For some odd reason, because of how it is constructed, some of the places to screw the legs in aren't actually on the edge, they're more sort of towards the middle.
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