I don't understand health and safety regulations over here. Currently, there are two men from Scottish Gas in my living room. One of them has his nose in our fireplace, and the other is sitting on the couch mumbling as he stares at a tablet. Neither looks like Dick Van Dyke.
It is supposed to be a routine yearly inspection, but I'm told it will take "two to three hours." This makes me fear our first gas bill. As if gas weren't costly enough, factoring in two employees for three hours for every flat in Edinburgh (or the country?) seems it would surely double the price.
At the same time, why doesn't the gas company back home come around yearly and do a health and safety inspection? Or is that why I hire a company to service the furnace and AC? Do we just privatize and not-make-mandatory such inspections?
I could turn to Google, I suppose, but philosophizing on the blog is more fun. Plus, I'm stuck here for two to three hours, and I've got to do something to look busy. I don't think the gas inspectors would appreciate yodeling practice.
Also, why is the company called "British Gas," but gasoline is called "petrol?" Oh, I have so much to learn!
Also, in case I disappear, here are the most likely suspects:
I think I might be breaking up with yoga. We have had a long separation now. Yoga had been really good for me -- it got me in shape, and it ...
My sweet little privileged boys playing in the show! Every woman I know is on fire lately. Whether that means finally seeking out therap...
Gooooood Monday morning, y'all! I'm writing from the Norton Cancer Institute where, for the first time in months, I'm able to ac...