Moving in with a boy – part 3

The day after we had a slight (and much needed) lie in. After cooking some sausage sandwiches (not a euphemism), and almost having a little argument over me pouring the leftover fat down the sink, we went our separate ways for the day. Pedro had to go back to his old house to do a massive clean and final clear out. I elected to stay in the new house and help look after Whiskeroo and start to get things sorted.
It wasn’t long before I regretted my decision. Being on your own in a new house with no tv and no Internet is not fun. Yes, I had plenty to do, but it was unnerving being on my own, and to be honest I didn’t know where to start.
A couple of hours in, and my parents came round. By this point I still hadn’t been able to get hot water to wash my hair, and I felt disgusting. My dad helped me sort out the hot water issue, and we pretty much thought we’d cracked it. They left shortly afterwards, and I felt a bit sad.
I went upstairs to tackle the clothes. I had 4 black bin liners full of clothes – to my surprise, Pedro had about 6. Before the move I had given about 8 bin bags of clothes to a cancer research charity shop – perhaps I’ll explain one day the reasons behind choosing that particular charity. So as I hung up the million (to the nearest million) t-shirts of Pedro’s I began to curse him. Why hadn’t he got rid of some of these before the move?! And how many t-shirts (many of which I’d never seen him wear before) does one man need?! ‘Throw them out, then tell him they got ‘lost in the move” suggested one colleague when I told her my incredulity at the sheer enormity of Pedro’s t-shirt collection. Needless to say, I haven’t done that – yet.
The hanging up of clothes took one and a half hours(!) after which I was desperately in need of some lunch and something for dinner, so I popped out to the local supermarket, my sunglasses firmly over my face to hide my hideous lack of makeup and clear evidence of non-washed hair.
When I returned, so bemused by exhaustion and heat that I suddenly realised I hadn’t bought any food resembling a meal, I discovered that the radiator in the hall was on and leaking. I called my dad (again).
When my dad attempted to turn off the radiator, the valve shot off, releasing a stream of black hot water to cover the entirety of my dad, me and my lovely clean white entrance hall. It continued to spurt out as I ran round the house frantically searching for a bucket (dad we’ve just moved in how do you expect me to find specialist equipment such as a BUCKET) and for towels (dad you’ve used all the towels we have ALL THE TOWELS WE HAVE) to staunch the flow and clean up. My dad and I sat on the soaking wet floor holding wads of towels against the high pressure hot stream of water until the emergency plumber came – luckily it was quickly and easily sorted.
Finally Pedro came home – and suddenly everything was alright again. So far living with Pedro has taught me that everything is better when we are together!
Did you have any issues when you first moved into your house?

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