Yesterday I went out to buy some Parmesan for my pasta, the obligatory cookies and a beer. Then I noticed that I was 150 pesos short in the shop. This was a hard choice, cheese, chocolate or beer what to give up. I decided I can do without the beer, but the shop owner, after witnessing the silent epic emotional struggle leading up to that decision decided to let me have the beer anyway.
My emotional turmoils were not over for this evening however. Coming home hungry I turned on the stove, the gas flame flickered pathetically for two minutes and died. We were out of gas. I informed Marie and we tried to alert the building manager, who was not home. Due to previous frustrating encounters with my landlord (his sister) I had planned to avoid meeting him until I moved out.
I went to get a kebab and when I came back Marie had talked to the manager, who had agreed to call for gas. In the middle of my beer sans pasta I got the inevitable call from the landlady refusing to pay for gas, as we were using it up too quickly in her opinion.
I passed the phone to Marie, who was talking to the building manager in the kitchen. After some guessing on what could have happened with the gas I was surprised to have him back us up. He agreed that there we were not to blame on the mysterious vanishing on the gas and this morning a new gas tank had appeared.
I guess our landlady is going to complain for the next few months about having to pay for it, but this is not going to be my problem anymore.
I'm just glad for Marie that her brother agrees that she is being ridiculous.