I come home and hubby says the hoover’s broken: “I turned it on and, once the screaming subsided, I noticed it wasn’t working properly, so you’d better ring the insurance - it’s still under warranty isn’t it?”
Yes, but it’s not broken, I said, it was fine when I used it. “Well, it’s broken now, it’s not picking anything up; the bit at the bottom’s not turning.” This from the man who broke the last hoover, by sellotaping, yes, you heard right, sellotaping the tiny, slight tear in the plastic tubing (so that when it pinged back up into the handle, it got stuck and had to be wrenched out, truly breaking it.)
I’m telling you it’s fine, I said and sure enough I press the button and turn the brush back on - I bet he thought that was the button to wind the plug back in. So I tell him to just leave the hoovering (instead of doing it and a) moaning and b) breaking the hoover) and he says: “I would but it feels neglected.”
Dunno what he means by that. Anyone for fudge?
2 comments:
Cheeky sod! Neglected indeed - I'd make him cook his own dinner for that :o)
Us women are busy doesn't he realise!? So many studs to drool over, so little time! He he ;o)
That, and I start to hoover and then it's "I'm trying to watch the telly" Never happy!
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