Unused clothes go to charity, of course, but have a heart for the have-nots. That shirt is destined for the scrap heap, not some children's home if you would rather be dead than be caught in it, or if it feels draftier than the hills of Tibet/smells worse than month-old Gorgonzola cheese sammiches.
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| Bath work day 3 - I quite like the grinding pattern, but mater will kill me if I suggest we retain it instead of tiling it over. |
Bathtubs have been rendered obsolete in most households. Getting rid of one is easy: kick it to the kerb after the workmen have wrenched it from its moorings, and scrap metal collectors will show up within the day.
Don't worry if the tub is a full-length one into which a certain Mr Ackles would fit perfectly either; the gentleman I spoke to yesterday evening wrested it from its resting place, lashed it to his rickety old Raleigh (a type of bicycle, I believe), and wheeled it away.
Lastly, if your home makeover involves extending the existing architecture, i.e., in the front and/or back, prepare a little something for the DBKL folk who will turn up on the fourth day of work.
Ostensibly, they want to check the premises for stagnant water in which mosquitoes will breed. Most homeowners will send them off with a little something to line their pockets so that the municipal council will be able to afford effective prevention measures, rather than fogging the neighbourhood after a resident has been diagnosed with dengue*.
I wouldn't begrudge them a little succour; no one should have a shitty job that doesn't pay you enough to feed your 6 kids/2 families/secret gay porn habit.
* They fog the neighbourhood of residence, but not where the infection may have been transmitted. Go figure.
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