Fall of the House of Richard

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We hadn't been having phone sex so my moaning and cursing greatly alarmed the friend with whom I'd been chatting on the phone.

A bolt had pulled from the ceiling and my porch swing had come crashing to earth with me in it. That was Thursday and I spent yesterday mostly hobbling. I'm OK now.

Last week a fuse blew. When I inserted a fresh one it glowed brightly white for a few seconds and died. Somewhere hidden the walls is a wiring fault. For various reasons I won't be able to have it found and fixed in the near future. All my ceiling lights are out.

The intermittent degeneration of the house has aped my relationship with Charles rather eerily.

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Thanks,
Richard

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