We came home tonight and spotted a new hole in our fence. That makes a total of five holes that you can see lined up next to each other: four patched up holes and one massive recent addition.
We’re used to holes in our fence and like taking pictures posing with them to send to our friends and family.
Pose. Click. Pose. Click.
“You know, this hole is probably big enough to fit the washing machine.” Remembering that the last hole took our landlord about a month to fix, we text him telling him he’d better come around tomorrow to fix this hole before anything gets nicked.
We go upstairs and start working on our Instagram caption.
“#holey #holeinfence #holyfence. The one where I’m climbing in the hole, or the one where I’m peering through… I dunno, you can’t really see the hole clearly, I think we should take another one”.
So we go back outside and I suck my gut in while Nid takes another round of photos. If it wasn’t for the second round of photos, we probably wouldn’t have discovered that our washing machine was gone.
“Babe, the washing machine is gone.”
Instagram caption is going to need to be reworked.
And that’s the story of how we discovered we no longer have a washing machine. We’ve been for a walkabout around our neighbourhood asking if they’ve seen any stray washing machines, and our landlord has come around with a policeman to take fingerprints. He has promised us better security lights and a better fence.
How many holes does it take for a landlord to upgrade the fence?